


Eyes And Lies

by MarySeph



Series: Eyes And Lies [3]
Category: Inazuma Eleven
Genre: Anemic girl, Angst and Tragedy, Animals as emotional support, Anniversary reaction, Asexual Female Character, Best Friends, Betrayal, Bisexual Male Character, Car Accident, Childhood Friends, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Flirting, Football Frontier, Friendship/Love, Gen, Golden Retriever, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Kidokawa Seishuu, Loner MC, M/M, Major Original Character(s), Male-Female Friendship, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of Suicide, Minor Original Character(s), Minor Violence, Original hissatsus, PTSD, Pre-Canon, Psychological Trauma, Rejection, Self-Hatred, Social Anxiety, Spies, Stress, Teikoku Gakuen, Trans Female Character, calico cat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-02-07 15:01:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 38,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12843663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarySeph/pseuds/MarySeph
Summary: "Teikoku will always win." This was an absolute truth and a huge lie. To that man, we were nothing but disposable tools to achieve victory. What are the events that cause Gouenji Yuuka to end up in a coma. This is our story.[First seven chapters currently under editing]





	1. Of Iron And Blood

**Prologue** **|** **Of Iron and Blood**

"Fa. . . ther. . ." I mumbled as his body fell in front of the bed at the sharp sound of a bang. Swiftly, my mother tightened her hand over my mouth, ordering me to stay silent. Her warmth was the only thing that told me what was happening in front of my eyes was real. Yet, I couldn't understand the situation.

The tips of my fingers and toes shook and tightened, my body wrapped in my mother's embrace while laying on the floor. With the curtain half-opened, a streetlight curiously peered in, revealing vague human silhouettes in heavy clothing.

My heart almost seemed to leap out of my throat as my mother's warmth left me in the dark room. I lifted my chin to witness my mother with her own gun, much like the one my father had taken out from the vintage console radio near the door. The one she joked was too old to have in the house anymore.

My parents became total strangers. More than the hardened expressions I had never seen; not the ones they put up during a conference in front of the company's associates. It was the display of illegal possession of firearms punished with at least a year in prison.

A flash of light illuminated the room, the man who had shot my Father falling down. But as the sound receded, like a crescendo, it was her who fell.

I drew my legs closer, cowering back as the two remaining men destroyed the sanctity of my parent's bedroom. I looked down at my mother and screeched as I saw a hole in her head and a void for eyes.

"No. . . No. . ." My voice shook, squeaking as the lights went back on.

My sanity snapped at the unfathomable scene, the piercing smell of iron, the sound of heavy boots, and the smell of sweat. And the realization that my life was nothing more than a candle that can be easily sniffed out.

I flinched at the sound of metal against metal, lifting my eyes to meet the void that swallowed my mother's life.

If I had a drop of composture left, it evaporated under the heat of certain death.

I let out a scream, tears pouring out of my violet eyes as if I was a baby who had barely gotten out of my mother's womb.

**Published: January 1st, 2017**

**Rewritten: January 15th, 2019**


	2. Deep Deep Forest

**Chapter 1** **|** **Deep Deep** **Forest**

I let out a loud gasp as I pushed myself up, covering my mouth with my hand. In a hurry, I swiped my eyes around the room. My raged breath was the loudest sound in the school infirmary, empty as the nurse in duty seemed to have gone somewhere.

As seconds passed, I began to collect myself and my memories. I wiped the sweat off my chest with my clothes, inhaling deeply for another time to calm down my breathing.

Digging one of my canines against the inside corner of my lip, I pressed a hand against my forehead. "I can't lie to Coach Nikaidou after this," I glowered, "it's the third time." I brought my knees closer before placing my arms on it, then my head, and sighed loudly. "It's not good."

I jumped as I heard two pairs of footsteps approach from the far side of the room. The office was at the end of the first floor, pushed aside by first-year classrooms. Having checked the time earlier, I begged for it to not be anyone from the soccer club as I stared at the closed door frozen stiff.

I resigned myself as I identified the rhythm of the owners of the footsteps', getting closer and closer. Taking another deep breath, I lowered my legs and straightened my back.

The door opened, a man and a boy staring in with a clear difference in worry.

I waved with a smile, painfully aware of the awkward air they brought. "Hello."

The boy returned a short smile and a nod. I turned my sight to the biggest challenge, an annoyed coach.

"How are you feeling, Sumire-san?" he asked with apparent worry.

"Oh, I'm fine. I apologize for worrying everyone," I replied casually like before. Turning my body towards their approaching figures, I tucked my legs in and sat properly.

This time, neither of them grabbed the chair beside the bed. I gripped an end of my skirt. While Coach Nikaidou's height was intimidating, I kept my smile strong.

"Sumire-san," he started, patience nearing its end, "this is the third time in four months."

"I know," I interjected, "the anemia hasn't made me feel very well."

His features tensed. "You didn't write that in your club form."

I giggled lightly. "You would have judged me as a frail little girl. I can't have that."

A second passed, the silence moistening the air. "How are you adjusting to the school? You are the only student from Kanto," the Coach said.

I waved a hand dismissively. "It's the anemia, Coach Nikaidou. I mean it." I looked at the silent boy beside him, the armband bestowing him the title of Captain despite being a first year was washed in the orange hue of the sunset. "I want to help the soccer club as much as I can." The only thought in my mind was that I couldn't go out that easily.

Gouenji Shuuya-kun met my gaze and turned to the Coach; I mimicked. "Coach," he called.

Coach Nikaidou glanced between us for a moment and sighed. "I need the document of a physician certifying you can carry out your duties as a manager. I can't have you fainting in the qualifying match."

I nodded firmly. "I will have it as soon as possible."

⚽️🌸⚽️

After bidding goodbye to the team, I left through the front gate while ignoring the fixed stare from Coach Nikaidou. The Mukata triplets also had something to say about fainting, their mockery going unanswered but with a glare. If there was a reason the soccer team wasn't improving, it was because of their arrogance.

The black car that brought me home was parked in the same place. I opened my bag as soon as the engine rumbled and the car pulled away from the school. Taking a regular notebook and a mechanical pencil, I opened the latter to this week's notes.

I cocked my head to the side and lifted my brows. Placing the end of the pencil on my chin, I hummed unsurely. "It doesn't look right." I tapped my chin. "But I can't ask Yuuto. This isn't a test question."

I scribbled intently on the notebook, editing and fixing the information of Kidokawa Seishuu's soccer club team. After blowing the eraser scraps, I brushed the page clean. "Is this acceptable?" I frowned and sighed in defeat. "I am holding my end of the deal one way or the other."

Minutes later, I was tempted to look away as Teikoku Gakuen's imposing presence grew from the distance. The metallic structures reflected the receding light, giving the school a larger than life appearance as a middle school.

I instinctively held my breath.

As soon as I stepped out of the car, I found the recently goggle-eyed boy who was to escort me to that man's office.

His poker face and indifferent body language left little signs he was willing to participate in small talk, yet I gave him a friendly greeting. "Thank you for waiting after club every week. Let's finish this fast and go home."

He nodded quietly and turned to the looming school. My smile fell and I stared at his growing back with worry.

You wouldn't believe we were childhood friends and former classmates.

Whenever my thoughts dipped into blaming my weaknesses, I shook my head and blamed the source of his change. Kageyama Reiji. Nevertheless, I curled my hands tightly. "If only I were smart enough to be here," I swore and trotted to catch up with him.

I made some small talk to keep my mind away from the eerie surroundings, a pressure that would otherwise crush my bones, until we reached that man's office . I had been here plenty of times, even before having to choose a middle school, but there was always something strange about the shadows at every corner.

As we stopped in front of that man's office, I put a hand over my neck when a chill shook my spine, feeling a pair of eyes on me. I quickly looked around.

"There isn't supposed to be anyone here now, right?" I asked Kidou in a hurry.

"No, there isn't," he replied without turning his back.

I looked back once again, sensing the stare under a fraction of a second. Gazing at a particular corner, my lips fell as Yuuto called using my last name after the door opened.

We presented ourselves to the Supreme Commander of Teikoku Gakuen's soccer club with a forty-year winning history, Kageyama Reiji. Wearing a purple outfit and dark lenses as sinister as his soul, he sat on a throne obtained through dirty deals and an undeniable talent for business and soccer tactics. He was the man who made Yuuto the soccer player he is. And the man who will influence him the most from now on.

Spite contorted my facial features. I despised the respect I held for him as a businessman, for he managed to snatch the child in Yuuto I was tasked to protect and nurture when Kidou-san adopted him.

As per the established routine, I gave Yuuto the notebook who passed it to that man.

"Was is this?" he said dryly after reading the notebook, his deep voice sending me into a state of rising panic. My fingers trembled. "Is this the best you can do?"

I bit my lip tightly. "I am learning ways to--"

"Leave." He closed the notebook, pushing it lightly as if rejecting a piece of garbage.

I took a step forward. "Their improvement is slow. Even with the match in two weeks, I do not believe they can win as a team. Gouenji-kun is the best player they have both in terms of speed, power, and technique. I can do this properly!" I yelled desperately. "I can give reports!"

Unfazed, he clasped his fingers. "Notes are crucial to a team's development. If you can't do that then your reports are as valuable as a witness's testimony. I want facts and numbers. Now leave."

Stress built up on my body and I tightened to hold it back. Digging my nails on my palms, I was aware the words I wanted to say were unwelcomed and broke apart before they left my mouth.

Yuuto presented the notebook back as if mocking me. I snatched it from his hand and turned away, walking briskly towards the door.

"Swim back to the surface, or die. Those are your choices, Sumire. You still are the heir of the Sumire Foundation. Want it or not."

I stopped at the threshold, gazing into the shadows of the dark forest: a world where I was lost, without a purpose to live. Yuuto and I were like Hansel and Gretel, two children who were tempted by the sight of a house of candy and a witch who offered to satisfy our cravings and dreams. But the witch didn't need to trap us because we came back of our own free will. And how fitting it felt to watch the animated Disney's short with Danse Macabre, a depressing and wistful song to top the tale off.

Yuuto stopped behind me, quietly observing my reaction like a child to his mother.

"I know," I blankly replied to that man, stepping forward, back into the real nightmare called life. "I know, but what can I do in this state?"

 **Deep Deep** **Forest** **| End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you for reading. For those who read this chapter as a rewrite, please tell me your thoughts. And for the new readers, nice to meet you, please call me Mary, and also tell me your thoughts! :D
> 
> Don't worry, this isn't an CharaxOC story. Yuu isn't interested in boys ;D. She is conveniently inserted as Kidou's childhood friend as the one who was to show him how the high society works as a fellow child. Also, the Sumire Foundation is fictional but it is also a financial group like the Kidou Financial Group. That is the reason they met.
> 
> Lastly, I attached the Disney short referenced in the media from House of Villains which is a great Halloween watch I promise. I loved it ever since I saw it for the first time, and I am happy I could finally make Yuu reference both Danse Macabre and Hansel and Gretel. Like, this has been in my mind for two years. I almost cried.
> 
> Published: January 30th, 2017
> 
> Rewritten: January 17th, 2019


	3. The Victory They Aim For

**Chapter** **3** **|** **The Victory They Aim For**

"People you can't reason with are the most dangerous," I said looking straight at his face. "On another topic, I've noticed that I'm quite unknown as a manager. That puts me at ease."

It was meant as a joke, but he did no gesture of amusement, just a tense expression that could mean something or nothing at the same time. People are that complicated; Gouenji was that complicated.

He detached from the door and crossed the rooftop, sitting against the ten-foot wire fence. I followed, placing myself five feet apart, unwrapped my lunchbox, and dug in.

"Thanks for the food."

After the first bite, I swooped my eyes through the surroundings for a conversation topic. From other buildings, I was being looked down upon by the other students from the higher floors. But most spared only blank glances. The cicadas weren't singing yet, but the air was humid, my clothes stuck to my body like tint to paper. I vented with the collar of my uniform.

"It's hot, isn't it?" I asked after swallowing.

This spring, the falling sakura petals though quite beautiful didn't bless me with a new beginning but sneered at my despair, fully aware that I wasn't able to move on, that I wasn't ready for spring. Now summer was getting ready to terrorized me, to keep me in the safe inside. There's only so much time I can handle inside. Depends on the length of the book or the length of the homework.

On hot days, I couldn't stay outside much longer, and in P.E I will basically be excused. It would be boring and quiet being on my own.

I took a soy-dipped broccoli and bit it, then looked at Gouenji.

There was no reply from him. As if the mere act of talking and amusing someone was a bother, he never answered to small talk, but an occasional nod. I tried another route, in a close-to-a desperate-effort. "History was fun. I hope we continue the Edo period next class."

Naturally, he didn't respond. Munching on his food, a half-drunked tea bottle in front.

I was close to grab him by the collar and order him to talk when his face lit up. He left the bento and stood up, rummaging through his pockets until he took out a piece of paper.

"Here," he said.

Dumbfounded, I took the paper and unfolded twice. It contained instructions for a certain process and a few drawings whose creator had no talent whatsoever for visual arts.

"Hissatsu? Fire Tornado? This is?"

Back to his lunch, he looked up and swallowed. "Nikaidou-kantoku gave it to me. I'll start practicing it from today. If I can master it before our first match, our chances of winning will rise."

So this Fire Tornado is the name of a hissastu.

"What's a hissatsu?" I asked.

He did a face that seemed to say, emphasis on _seemed_ , _What are you talking about?_

"Can you take the trouble of explaining?"

A sigh, an explicit _I guess I can_ _,_ maybe.

"A secret technique, basically," he said.

"I'm sorry. That makes no sense."

This time, he made no effort to hide his irritation, passing his hand through his face. Little conflicts like this widen the distance inbetween; the unfeigned attitude of mine in prior times. Although our natures were different, I wouldn't say opposite. If I looked close enough, I would certainly find something that connect us.

"A hissatsu's like Bruce Lee's one-inch punch. An ability you can't pull off for too long or repeatedly. Is that better?" He answered with a pitch of pride.

"I'm afraid I don't know about Bruce Lee's hissatsu."

For some reason, Gouenji let out a snort.

A snort became a chuckle until it rose to a full-fledged laugh. I stared dumfounded. "Was it that funny?" I asked, offended that I was left out. I took a cherry tomato and popped it in my mouth. The flavor was so strong I couldn't help but moan.

I observed him in an effort to hold back. Though I have no experience in cooking, Gouenji was holding his laughter like an onion that doesn't want to be peeled. Feeling some form of tranquility, like a breeze, I said, "It's been a while since I made someone laugh."

His laugh was contagious, and soon I found myself chuckling together.

After Gouenji's fit and occasional chortle he had enough strength to answer. "Then wait until I learn Fire Tornado. It's hard to describe."

Because pointing out his poor word choice was probably at fault, I set on asking Kidou in the next break; indiscrete comments to my popular counterpart were unwise.

I took out my precious notepad where Gouenji wrote down the word, and I spent a minute analyzing the product. The handwriting was nice and pretty, nothing like the writer.

"Then do you want me to help you?" I asked.

"That was the plan. I was sure you knew something. Guess I was wrong." He took his bento and resumed to empty the tray.

"I still can be of help," I said in a haste. Being pushed aside and deemed incapable wasn't an option. And Gouenji wanted to win the Football Frontier, he fervently declared so in his speech as the new captain. A little rusty if I may say, but nevertheless more honest than most people I have heard with plenty of experience in the art of public speaking.

"I'll do what I can." I gave a firm nod and ate a sweet tamagoyaki dipped with soy sauce.

"Thanks."

Before he sank into silence, I perked up, slid out the paper underneath the cloth that wrapped my lunchbox, and presented it. "I need you to teach me Sakaki-sensei's material."

His eyes scanned paper closely before taking it. He stared for a while longer until he finally opened his mouth.

"I never thought someone could be this bad as Math." He was. . . honestly impressed. Like when I found out mustard came from a seed. For the first time, he looked like a twelve or thirteen-year-old.

And to that action comes my reaction.

"Sakaki's explanation is hard! No matter how much I ask him to explain, after the third time he just ignores me!" I yelled, unable to hold back anymore.

"He probably gave up." He casually answered.

I lowered my head, fumbling with the last cherry tomato. "That reminds me more of the look our English teacher gave on the last test."

"English? Seriously?" He looked up and met me in the eye, revealing a condescending attitude.

"Can you hide your disgust just a little?" I said after swallowing my third tamagoyaki. I was made aware enough of my ineptitude. My back shrank, making me seem smaller than I already was.

He sighed, going back to the paper. He cleaned his lunchbox long ago.

"There will be a test based on the new material at the end of the week. I need to pass."

He replied after a few seconds, studying the paper like a Math formula."Why are you asking me? Why not your friends?"

I took some time thinking about the answer. It was the most personal question he had ever asked. "I. . . didn't think of that. It would be. . . weird don't you think? Asking them for help."Faking a laugh that didn't convince me, thus he wasn't either.

"It seems they don't understand either." I used a more serious tone.

"It would make you look bad." He said matter-of-factly as if reading between my spoken words.

"W-why do you put it that way?" I found it hard to meet him in the eye. In the floor, there was an ant carrying a crumble of food on its back.

"You're the third best of the grade. If you don't know, then that would compromise your position in the class. You look like the kind of person that cares of what others think." He looked around, his countenance relaxing. "I'm not judging you. In case I'm right."

Not only he was a quiet person, moody, and hard to understand. He had also seen through me plenty of times. I got involved with him with my own will--it has nothing to do with my job--and he had already seen through it.

As if my eyes were opened, I thought people who think in their heads were quite interesting. It's as if they have a universe in their heads, the silence held so much meaning while almost-transparent words floated around them. In Kidou's case, Gouenji's case, and that girl's case.

Fingertips pressed against my knees, the bird's chirping became a mocking laughter. Saying to give up your façade, that it was meaningless to keep playing the same magic trick.

For a change, I didn't protest, clarified, or fumed. I wanted to shut off the world, put on earphones and let music take me to another world, far from responsibilities, expectations, and duties. A place where I could find my true melody and play it endlessly.

"I won't tell." He gave back the paper and formed a small smile. For a moment, I thought he had revealed himself to me, that I was seeing an unknown side of him, but it bent awkwardly like a straightened clip, ending in a tight expression he was putting too much effort to. "I'll teach you."

.....

As we returned to the classroom, my eyes set on a girl with bright hair sitting at the opposite corner. Sometimes our gazes crossed, but I haven't spoken to her formally. She stood out as much as Gouenji and me, but while we were considered the top students in the class, she was the one at the truly at the top. The number one. I have shared enough with people that seemed to live in another world, and her presence had the same feeling. She was a mantis, with cold eyes that froze you even when you weren't in her vision, and if you get emotionally involved with her, she would bite off your head.

Before the teacher came I messaged Kidou, asking if he knew what a hissatsu was. Surely he did. I would receive a specific and clear answer and probably an example I was more familiar with, nothing like Gouenji's abstract and detached description. Another thing that I disliked about him was the coldness he spoke with as if he expelled cold air with each word. Maybe that was the reason his word was shut from the world.

History was one of my best subjects. Little I did have to worry unlike Math and English. I had the content on the tip of my finger and I could recite the material by memory. Taking notes fervently, I forgot my problems for at least an hour.

The next break, I took off to the bathroom after my phone buzzed mid-class. As I thought, it was Kidou.

From: Yuuto

Re: What's a hissatsu?

I don't know how to explain.

I gripped the device tightly and grumbled to myself. Boys, what goes through their minds? I didn't have a particular problem with them, but they were simply hard to understand, like a tough nut to crack. Hence why Kidou, from the ten names on of top my head, was my closest friend. But if Gouenji weren't so unexpressive, cold, and mean, my days would be a little more boring.

Back to the issue at hand, I had to think up a reply. Mentioning Gouenji was straight up shoving into his face how much fun I'm having as a manager. Club took my mind off various issues, those I can't solve. Kidou's hurtful voice last Friday hunted my mind and hung my head. From his side, it was cheating, and I couldn't argue the contrary. Teikoku was the last place I wanted to spend ten hours a day (counting club time, as it was a must) and the high chance of Dance Macabre playing continuously in my head would leave me mental. If Kidokawa was a prison, then Teikoku was a mental hospital.

I wanted to write an apology, to get done with it now but I chose to tell him directly. Not only I wanted to see his reaction, but I wanted to readily answer. Texting seemed cowardly and rude. Important matters are told face to face.

I replied a thank you with a cute emoji and went back to Class 1-B.

.....

Classes for the day had ended. Before making my way to the field, I changed to a pair of red shorts and a shirt with the name of the school on the chest. Recalling the incident, I bought some bread and took a pill with a chug of water. Better than nothing, I thought. I made a mental note of being conscious of my breathing and vision, the first signs that the afternoon will end wrong and out of the team.

The qualifying match was two weeks from today and the team wasn't ready. No wonder there was an air of uncertainty in the grounds. Because I agreed to help Gouenji with Fire Tornado, it meant giving him my undivided attention. As a manager, bringing that hissatsu to reality was my job, and understand its meaning was second. Maybe that's why I said that, maybe that's why I called out the entire team.

"Everyone! Please listen." Sixteen people bore their eyes on me, including Gouenji. I hadn't spoken as a manager before; they were interested in what I had to say. Something warm inside me took control, similar to hugging a warm pillow. "I think everyone knows about Captain's new hissatsu, but don't depend on it. The qualifying match is in a week. A team is made of eleven, not one, not a captain. The ticket to the Football Frontier also depends on you, so please do your best."

After a clear shout, they nodded to each other and dispersed. There was determination in their eyes and a clear goal. We can win.

Gouenji and I strayed from the team and went to the gym to ask the mechanics of an overhead kick. It was the first step to perform the technique. Coach Nikaidou would only give us advice. Of course, he knew the technique by memory and the appropriate training, but he decided to set us a challenge. It was then that I heard it was a challenge solely for Gouenji at first, but the Coach wasn't against me lending him a hand.

We ran around the school searching for the gymnastics teacher. The team she coached usually practiced in the first gym, but they were nowhere to be found.

After an hour, we found a group of twenty girls in the old gym, squealing at the eye candy I was panting with and I was breathing so deeply I had no doubt my lungs will burst. It was the first time I rolled my eyes at my own gender and averted from them to do so. Gouenji immediately recoiled, sweat dripping from his chin, more for the running than the pressure the girls were causing with their stares and yaps. The disturbance made our presence clear, for the teacher turned to see what caused her team to become slaves of their emotions.

To our surprise, she was a fan of soccer, knew how to perform the move, and agreed to teach him. The teacher clapped, grabbing the attention of the girls and ordered a fifteen-minute break.

"Were you looking for me all around the school?" she asked, tying her hair with a scrunchie, "You're so sweaty."

"We asked for you at the first gym but the other teams didn't know," I said, not quite recovered from the run.

"I'm so sorry. I was having the girls practice with the equipment only this gym has." She chinned at a set of bars, each higher than the other. "I issued a petition to move them to the first gym, but the principal just wouldn't allow it. It's pretty far too, from the other gym that is."

There weren't any results the first day. After half an hour, I went back to the pitch and picked two towels, a sports drink, and refilled my water bottle when Coach Nikaidou asked how was Gouenji doing.

"It's a complicated technique," I began, unsure of honest I should be, "The teacher is a great help, but I think he's scared of jumping. I would be scared too. Anyway, Coach? Have there been other applicants?"

As if his face was made of rubber, Coach's face pulled downwards, the stubble on his chin more prominent. "There have been a few actually." He cleared his throat, and I could hear what he was going to say before the man spoke. " _But. . . well, you know, finding someone who's dedicated as you is hard_."

I caught Gouenji's flushed figure stumbling to the court. I walked up to him and extended a towel and a sports drink. He sat for while before joining the rest in the training and for the first time in the day I was alone.

Through my peripheric vision, I caught two girls behind the building, giggling and squeaking among themselves, sometimes pointing at the court. They wore purple ribbons, first years just like me, probably talking about the Captain. It's been almost four months and girls keep approaching him, though I'm not one to talk.

I was popular among the first year boys and had my share of monthly rejections it pained my heart to give. They just fueled my confusion, confessing wasn't enough for me to say _yes_. If they took it steady, I would be able to understand something. But as if it were a race for them, the smallest thumping in their hearts meant they were head over heels. It wasn't very different from the definition of love I had. But at least I doubted it.

The Captain was a double-edged sword. It was this similarity that brought us together, and as soon as I spent time with him, the less unknown boys approached me. I haven't complained directly about the lack of managers and tried to act as if I didn't mind, which isn't completely false but not true at the same time, like a half full glass, because I was the same. I have gotten used to filling and passing out sports drinks and towels, pull out a cart full of soccer balls before training and pull it back before leaving.

Someday, I may be able to see the soccer club other than a responsibility; someday, maybe I will call them friends.

**The Victory They Aim For** **| End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kidokawa is a prison and Teikoku is a mental hospital, now I have done it XD. No more half-awake editing for me.
> 
> I think I have already admitted to myself this draft won't be perfect so I'll do my best to finish it. My first thoughts were to focus on this fic this semester but I want to go the whole way. I've also realized there isn't a fic I've finished that's not a one-shot so I feel kinda negative about my style.
> 
> Published: March 12th, 2017


	4. What is Reflected in Their eyes

**Chapter 1** **| What is Reflected in Their eyes**

_"If you want to change the world, become an adult."_

That statement hurt more than swallowing a thousand nails. Being aware of my powerlessness struck me deep as the bullet inside my parents' bodies.

I gasped for air, and more importantly, for a ray of hope.

My consciousness returned like a stream reaching stagnant waters. I first noticed the sounds around me. The laughter of my peers, the hum of a fan, and the smell of antiseptics?

Where had I awoken to? After opening my eyes, I answered my own question, gazing at the fluttering curtain where an afternoon breeze swept in. I inhaled deeply, a warm feeling swelling my chest. I had a good dream; it was all I remember.

I turned on my belly to grab my phone. Compared to my classmates', the red sandwich-esque model was behind the times, but as the first phone I ever owned, I chose simplicity over image.

The time was 16:45, written on the small LED screen on the outside surface.

I slid my sight to the windows. Outside, the sky had a tint of orange. There was a smell of disinfectant and peppermint in the air. The room was quiet. From far away, the screams and voices of my peers grew.

I debated whether to go back or return to sleep. On one hand, I didn't want to give the team a reason to think I was skipping. On the other hand, I need to rest. Lately, night hasn't been an option, though I couldn't pinpoint the reason; it was a gut feeling. My thoughts were clear and I felt refreshed but the effort this mission demanded was one of the causes of my health decline. If I couldn't take proper care of myself, my goal was beyond the tip of my fingers. I had to balance both.

I figured that was the reason I fainted in the middle of club activities. In contrast with my thoughts, my memories were unclear. The last I remember was zipping my bag and head to the field.

Two sets of footsteps came from the corridor, disconnecting the consciousness from thoughts. The nurse office was at the far end of the hallway and the rest of the rooms were now empty classrooms. Unless they were students from those classrooms, their destination was this room.

Lifting my upper body a little too quickly, a sharp headache assaulted. My throat was sore. I had the urge to drink some water. The noise didn't stop at the last classroom. I checked my hair for any loose ends and passed my fingers through in an effort to comb it. Through half-open eyes, the door clanked open from end-to-end.

It was a man with blue hair, coach Nikaidou, and a boy with sharp eyes, the captain.

"How are you feeling?" Coach asked in a soothing tone.

"I'm alright," I said.

He left after exchanging a few words about the incident, warning I took better care of my health, there was an honest concern behind the words as if he failed his responsibility as the coach. After his steps faded, I grunted, head between my hands.

"Third time," I said.

"If you're sick you shouldn't come." He had sat in the chair beside the bed during the conversation. He was looking straight at me.

"Nothing like that, Captain. Please do not concern yourself with that. I'm fine."

He let out a sigh, slightly troubled and not convinced. At least I had that impression. He is not easy to read.

If I weren't bedridden, I would walk one or two steps back. I never thought I would be scared of a person my age. Scary things should be bigger, and scarier. What Gouenji Shuuya emanated was an aura that, if properly nurtured, would bring older people down their knees. I took an inconspicuous deep breath, filling with lungs with 'pure' air and exhaling sharply. It changed my mood in an instant from fear to neutral or borderline cheerful.

"Don't call me Captain. We're both first-years."

I shook my head slightly, my temples throbbing a little. I leaned forward and smiled.

"Only in the club. Everyone calls you Captain. Isn't it an honor for a first year to wear that armband?"

I waited for his answer, suppressing the movement of mouth muscles. In any moment, I would break in laughter.

"Suit yourself." He sighed in defeat. I was ready to yell victory and pump my fist up, until his next words.

"I asked Coach. You left blank 'Health Concern' in your application. If--"

I expected he had taken the hint, but he may denser than he looks.

"It's nothing. I mean it." I replied swiftly. For a second, his eyes held some kind of deep emotion but immediately turn back.  
He spoke sternly, changing the topic for the second time.

"We're depending on you. The team is nothing compared to the other years. At least that's what the upperclassmen are saying. At this rate, we won't stand a chance against Teikoku."

I chuckled. If I were to leave, the team would be in a worse condition than the current one. In the end, it who used the other wisely.

Kidokawa Seishuu's soccer team had probably stumbled upon one of the most perilous issues time brings. With most of its senior retiring and a lot of freshmen wanting to join the club, there has been chaos since the beginning of the school year. With the deadline of Football Frontier qualifiers creeping closer, the school needs a fairly decent team to maintain both its reputation and power, for the school and the public.

"Over depending on a girl to help the team become stronger despite knowing little about the sport reveals a lot about the team." I snickered. "Kidokawa is no good."

_Weak._

Is what I called the team on my first day as a manager. Most of the team was comprised of new faces, and they knew nothing about each other, neither personally nor about their playing style. Just accomplishing harmony on the team would be a feat. But they moved at a snail's pace. I feel ashamed on their behalf I could almost blush when they finally took my advice seriously. A mediocre team for a manager. I wonder if Coach Nikaidou is mediocre too. If that were the case, I would be close to quitting the team.

As if. I couldn't return empty-handed.

Gouenji was silent. I had no clue what he was thinking. He crossed his arms and legs. Leaning his head against thin air, he whispered.

"We still have to make it to the tournament."

_I wonder if we'll make it._

I couldn't control these pessimist thoughts. I lost hope the first day, but if they don't move forward, participating in the Football Frontier would remain a fool's dream.

He stood up. "I'm going back."

"Ah, yes. Me too."

While I was hastily grabbing my phone and looking for my shoes, Gouenji had already left the room.

"Please, wait for me!" I ran out only to find him leaning next to the door. "That's mean."

"And you never cease to judge people openly. Shouldn't you wait for the nurse?"

"No need. Let's go."

Before he had the chance to protest, I walked briskly to the pitch.

_I wasn't in the mood of answering questions._ _Nothing had changed._

....

Practice ended. The team's harmony may seem to have improved; however, at this pace, I wondered if winning the qualifying match was even possible.

Coach Nikaidou dismissed us. Shortly after, he called me out.

"Sumire-san. Can I have a moment?"

Before the end of those words, a dozen pairs of eyes landed on me like thick books. My neck stung with a thin shock. I listened attentively to Coach Nikadou's in order to dismiss that uncomfortable tingling.

"I really appreciate your help in the club, but I'm afraid overexerting yourself will cause the team more trouble than help. I need you to tell me if you have any medical complication that may threaten your well-being. As a teacher, I can't allow a student to put club activities before health."

Sooner or later it was bound to happen. Stress from school, club activities, and homework seem to have worn me out more than once. In any case, I had to keep up the impression my efforts were for the team.

"I'm deeply sorry. I was convinced I would be able to take care of myself accordingly. But. . ." I lowered my head so he wouldn't be able to see my eyes. "I have a mild case of anemia. But it's only temporary, or so the doctor said."

"Anemia, huh? I'm glad it's nothing more serious--"

"I apologize."

"It's okay. But summer is starting soon. I recommend you take precautions. If you're not feeling feel free to go home at any time."

"Thank you very much. I'm deeply sorry for the trouble I caused."

I left the pitch and walked to the back door. Few students--even fewer who leave post-club time--walked by. A perfect place of secret meeting, or so the girls in my class have murmured. To my misery, my relationship with the person I was meeting with wasn't as one would think. The reason this was our meeting spot was sole to meet.

I checked my phone for the message I was expecting. Closing it, I quickened the pace.

We exchanged a greeting while the driver opened the back door after a deep bow.

The trip to Inazuma Town was quiet. My ears were filled with the sound of the humming car and my breathing. The scenery changed once we reached the town. The buildings shrunk and the streets narrowed, growing quieter and giving and air of tranquility, I felt my body relax. It was the place I called home. It was a small town, where rumors spread fast and the name Sumire wasn't unheard of. I could trace a map of the most popular areas with my eyes closed.

"It's getting hotter, isn't it?" I asked the boy at the other end. Following a broken laugh, I dropped my sight before turning back to him. The distance between our bodies was like the distance between our hearts. Before I noticed, I couldn't recognize the person beside. I held back the urge to remove those goggles by force. It didn't fit the image of Kidou Yuuto, the real one. They were the symbol that he was that man's puppet, like branding cattle, and he accepted it willingly. Maybe with pride, even if he didn't need them, or so I was told. I was at loss of how to respond to his new attitude.

If I couldn't observe a person's countenance and figure out his or her emotions, I was less than a shy girl; I was a fool.

"You didn't forget it, right?" He answered, arms and legs crossed and a blank expression.

"It was only one time," I waved a hand dismissively. "His face was priceless." I muffled a chuckle, took _it_ out. It was a commonplace composition notebook. Every student must have a dozen of them, but what's important is not the cover, but the contents. The best place to hide a tree is in a forest.

"Why do I keep meeting him daily? He's a threat to my emotional health."

"I know you hate him, but it wouldn't kill you to speak of him politely."

"That man is unfit anywhere but hell."

"Shakespearean insults make no difference. Quit acting like a kid."

_It's all I can do._

My self-righteous fist will never reach him. How I wish he would drop dead.

"Anyway, there hasn't been much improvement this past week. I don't understand what that man sees in the team."

"To be honest, me neither, but I'm sure he has a plan."

"He's your coach, am I right? Does he not trusts his team perhaps?"

"Quit it!" He turned, brows knitting close. "What do you know about us? You were the one who decided to go Kidokawa." It was very faint, but I picked on the hint he wasn't pleased with my school of choice.

"It's your fault I'm stuck doing this in the first place! Do you not have--"

I stopped.

"Have what?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

_Morality?_

When our darkest selves arise naturally, it's as if we forget our friendship and the pact we swore to protect.

It's all because of that man.

Kidou Yuuto has a strong of justice, anyone who has spent some time with him knows this, yet. . . He can't see the evil even if it's front of him. Before his mind picked up that man's hidden madness, he was convinced that man was a god. A god that would teach him soccer in order to win.

I don't regret attending Kidokawa Seishuu. My instincts whispered if I were to attend Teikoku, I was going to be used for that victory he desires so badly. However. . . the result was the same.

In the rest of the way loomed an eery silence. As per usual, when we set foot in Teikoku we exchanged an apology--neither of us was the type to hold grudges--before Kidou's expression hardened. I pressed myself to think he was another person altogether, it would make this easier.

Entering Teikoku, I was hit by a sense of distress from the wide entrance. Whenever I visited, I had the same feeling; I was aware of how small and insignificant I was. That was the very same thought I had when I realized what that man was capable of. Certainly, he didn't found this school, but from the years he had spent directing it, Teikoku Gakuen embedded the pride and madness that defined Kageyama Reiji.

The dim halls were a maze, echoing the slightest sound, it was like a hungry beast. If you're not part of the darkness, you'll get swallowed, the walls seemed to whisper. I tugged on Kidou's sleeve. If I strayed from his lead, I would become a victim. I was sure the students were part of the darkness. Including Kidou. I focused on these absurd thoughts to maintain sanity, the little I had left.

I bumped into Kidou who came to a halt. "I'll come too," he said with a half-smirk-half-smile.

I was close to thinking he was his usual self, before remembering what happened the last time I entered that room, and my heart sank. He had to make sure I wouldn't disrespect his Commander.

_You're awfully nice, today._

In this school, there is a side of Kidou I didn't know it exists, when it was born, or perhaps created. I had yet to have a real glimpse of it, but I figured he would be strangely cold, almost cruel.

That fake smile was the last straw. When he set to this school, he was completely under his control. I couldn't have avoided it. My own health was a priority at the time.

Kidou entered the room, exchanged a few words with the man inside and whispered to come, his voice as cold as ice. Fixing my backpack I took in the repugnant sight of the man who took the people I loved the most.

"Good afternoon," I said in a monotone manner. I was raised in a respectable household, but that was no reason to put an act in public, even less toward this person.

From my peripherical vision, Kidou's eyebrow twitched. Holding back a chuckle, I made my way towards the center of the room, the oppressive aura of that man growing.

He seemed to be lost in his thoughts. I figured Kidou behind would protest if I were to be rude again. I cleared my throat and waited.

No response.

"It's Sumire. I bring the report of Kidokawa Seishuu's team. . . sir."  
It was only then that his chair turned, leaning his arms on the table. I gripped the wrist where I had the notebook, taking in a deep breath.

_Don't throw it in his face!_

I fixed a somewhat calm expression.

"I see. How was it?" he said.

Hearing those words, I took a set back, a chill ran through my spine. Only _Dance Macabre_ was capable of that reaction. I gripped the straps of my backpack and took another deep breath.

"As I told Kidou, the team's progress has been slow. If I may speak freely, I don't believe they will pass the qualifying match."

I lifted the notebook to my left. A second later, it was taken and reached his hands. He skimmed through the pages, expression unchanged, while Kidou, now in front, shifted to catch a glance.

The notebook was closed and returned. That man became engrossed in his thoughts again. I shared a glance with Kidou. That man was unreadable.

Why am I surrounded with this kind of people? Instead of digging for an answer, a sigh ended the train of thought.

"Then. . ." I said after releasing my breath. The tension in the room seemed to have broken.

"You may leave." That man said, returning to his initial position.

Similar to what Coach Nikaidou did, I had to stop at the threshold, a foot from freedom.

"Sumire," it was that man's voice. "Have you taken to heart my words?"

The question caught me by surprise. I looked around, as if searching for the answer, from that man to Kidou, and was satisfied with the floor. I could somewhat understand the meaning, and I have certainly been working on my attitude. From this distance, his expression was blurry.

My attitude today mirrored my efforts. It couldn't have slipped by. I crossed out giving a confident answer, and lying in the slip of a second was like learning to play a song in a day; it was a skill I had yet to master.

I heard the squeal of a chair, as a sign that silence was good enough for an answer.

**What is Reflected in Their eyes | End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a great time writing this chapter. Working on Sumire's personality is challenging but also rewarding. With this fic, I want to focus on character relationships. Not only between Sumire and canon characters, but also between canon characters through her perspective.
> 
> Thoughts? Comments? Reactions? Even flames work. What do you think about Sumire? I hope it was an interesting chapter and you weren't overwhelmed with questions. If so, which ones? I may fail to realize; I've been developing this world for far too long.
> 
> Published: January 30th, 2017


	5. The Determination that is Witnessed

**Chapter 4** **| The Determination that is Witnessed**

Kidou had that expression whenever he's thinking deeply about important matters. It was just like the statue of The Thinker. I kept quiet, even if I didn't want to.

My hands were still clammy from the conversation with that man. Because I was busy, today's notes were empty. I told him the team was practicing something, but they didn't tell me what. It was a half-truth. After all, how should I explain the captain was trying to master a hissatsu when I didn't understand the term?

"Hey," Kidou said. The car curved and climbed uphill. Just a few minutes before challenging Sakaki-sensei homework. I wished for the car to stop for all eternity.

"What is it?" I asked after my prayer wasn't answered, the car making it's way up just like the driver wants. "It's not like you to leave your sentences short."

He pondered in a manner like a statue, "You said Kidokawa didn't seem much of an opponent for us. I was thinking of helping you in making them stronger. You don't know the anything about soccer after all."

It took two seconds to register his words.

"Huh?! Helping the opponent? How did it come to you?! How?"

While I was assaulted with confusion and anger, he was calm and composed and wasn't meeting my eyes, not that I could see them now.

Kidou had this talent that struck my nerves of predicting what I'll say before I even think. He read me just like his opponents in the field. It's this talent that gave him the title of genius.

As always, he had already prepared an answer.

"The two schools have been rivals for years. If Kidokawa can't be a match for us, we won't get stronger as a team."

"In other words." I put a finger on my forehead as if it would help me think clearer, "For the team to get stronger it needs strong opponents. You wouldn't be able to measure what is Teikoku capable of otherwise. Being also a team of first years." I returned to my seat. "Your logic is always beyond me."

How he convinced himself of that atrocious idea was even further.

"Yea--"

"Wouldn't your teammates and that man take it as betrayal? Even if it's you, no, because it's from you, it would shake the entire te--, no, the _school_ , if you were found. Didn't you think about that?"

"Because it's me, I have to. As the captain."

Behind that blue label around his eyeballs, his eyes must have shone with a determined glow. It was that vibrant red I've grown fond of that surfaced when something important was at stake. The root of his motivation was self-improvement, and he was doing it for his team.

"I appreciate it. There are a few things I want to ask about, but I have a pile of homework," I said.

I had never dreaded to return home this much.

"Kidokawa Seishuu is stricter about academics than I expected," I said dejectedly. "I was sure sports were first."

And I couldn't live up to those expectations. At least not at the moment.

"Never thought I would see the next head of the all-powerful Sumires dejected at a mere pile of homework." Kidou smiled.

"We're not powerful. We're just famous."

It wasn't an act of humility, but the Sumire Foundation isn't involved in troublesome business.

"It's a huge burden, school, and club. I want to do something bigger. Something I can take pride in." I crossed my arms and slouched in the seat. "You're the captain of the school soccer club you always wanted to go. I am just the manager of a mediocre team that may not even pass the qualifying match. It's frustrating!" My voice rose in pitch with each sentence. I held back the urge to kick the seat and instead bit the corner of my lip. "As soon as I set foot in that school, I promised myself I would be part of something big, not a little club with barely enough members to fill in the spot of the incapable manager. It's a pebble compared to the boulder of carrying the Sumire Foundation. It isn't enough of a challenge!"

Kidou gave a rare look that may have said _You're right_ but had no idea how to answer. The topic was too complicated and alien. He turned to the window and the world flickered, for in response to this insensitive act, rage boiled in my chest. I had no legitimate reason to be mad at him. He had no idea how to bring a person down to their senses yet I wish he knew.

Going against my expectations, he spoke in a calm but encouraging tone.

"I think you can do it. You've always surpassed everyone's expectations, every time. If that's what you really want, you will do everything possible to make it real." There was a smile beneath that poker face. I saw it clearly.

No matter what, Kidou will always be Kidou. So I made another prayer, a noble and honest wish expected of the heir of the Sumire Family.

Please don't let that man taint this part of him.

.....

Kidou spent the late afternoon in my personal living room helping with Sakaki-sensei's homework. Before leaving the school, I went with Chiyo to the faculty office asking for her notebook while a solitary violin played somewhere in the building. I copied the exercises while Sakaki-sensei bore his eyes on me causing an occasional tingle. After that, we parted our own ways and promised to go to Mitsumiya's family restaurant next week. It has been our plan for the past month, and the person in question kept bringing up the topic.

I made a mental note to talk to Gouenji the next day and decide how the group study session will be.

My living room was a little similar to Kidou's, a dusty TV pushed against the far wall, a sofa, a table with a carpet underneath, and two single seats, one at each side. But mine was pass the bedroom, with a bathroom and curtained floor-to-ceiling windows. The room itself had had barely more than two guests, excluding family and employees.

Since it had been some time after his last visit, Sui, the main maid, was glad to see him.

It was eight o'clock when we took a break. Still in the kitchen, I asked Sui for some tea and sandwiches. Her cooking was the best. Kidou and I grew up with the taste.

When I returned, I found Kidou lying face down on the table, cheek against the surface.

"You'll get a mark," I said as I made myself comfortable on the sofa. Hugging a warm pillow, I traced the pattern in the ceiling with my finger.

"I was just resting." Kidou yawned, placing a fist on his forehead.

"Are you okay?" I peered from the corner of the pillow. His slouch made him look tiny, fragile, and old. He was upright and focused, as usual, a while ago. "Thank you for helping me. You should go back and rest."

I climbed up the sofa to show him the door. This time, I didn't do it out of courtesy. I wanted to know what caused this change in energy.

"No, it's okay." He was lying, for his words were pushy and rehearsed. "Training's taking its toll on my body. That's all." He sat upright like pocky, but the façade didn't convince me anymore.

Kidou was scared of not being good enough. That no matter how much of an effort he puts, things don't end well. He wanted to believe as much as the others that he was suited for being the successor of the Kidou Financial Group. Not only he didn't want to disappoint his father, that man, and whoever rose a glass for his success, but he was also afraid of separation. Being cast away by those who have expectations was his worst nightmare, actual nightmares that used to keep him awake whole nights. Because he was, in fact, a pauper dressed like a prince, a reality so cruel I had locked away. We don't talk about it, but once, only _once_ he confessed it bothered him, and Kidou Yuuto doesn't let go of the truth, even if it hurts him. No matter how I denied it he kept saying, _but it's the truth, it's the truth!_ The truth was a shard with infinite sides. Truth doesn't exist.

This boy is a genuine fool and my closest friend. His suffering was my own.

And finally, as if he had read my mind and pieced up like the puzzles he adores, he put on a proud smirk as a symbol of his new persona at Teikoku, to mask the never-ending fears that swirled in his mind, seducing him with the idea of giving in and join the madness that is born within every person. But Kidou is strong, he won't give in, just like I didn't give up music.

"Have you keep on the violin?" Kidou asked while stretching his upper muscles.

"Violin?" I repeated. "Now that you mention it. . . when was the last time I played? It hasn't been anywhere near this month. This is only the second week." It was the first time my art felt distant, a smoke cloud on the horizon.

"But you haven't given up, _have you_?" His words held expectations.

"Of course, I would never abandon the violin." I crossed one leg over the other to make my words hold weight.

Then, a light of inspiration hit me. My thoughts connected to today's events. To when I read his message.

"Hey, Kidou, um. About last week. . ." Now it was I who trailed off. My throat closed off and it was hard to swallow. "I should tell you, um. . . about why I am in Kidokawa."

He quickly realized what I was going to say. His pinky twitched before clenching his fingers ever so slightly.

I returned to my previous position and gazed at the ceiling, hand stretched to the sky. "Where should I start? I guess from when that man spoke to me."

His ears perked up at the reference and he came closer to the sofa, now thoroughly focused on my words.

I flickered my eyes back to the flower pattern.

"He said I would attend school starting spring. I had two choices, Kidokawa Seishuu, a school far from Raimon city or Teikoku, the school you will be attending. And you know? I actually thought about it, thought about you. . . About how fun it would be to go to school together." I stopped. "But at that time. . . you remember how I was. I didn't want to be any near him than at that moment and worse on a daily basis." My hands clenched into fists. "I wanted to go to Kidokawa. I figured. . . I would have some control of my life if I did."

Again, that irregular heartbeat, the thought of the missing silver.

In Kidokawa, I didn't have to see Kidou destroy himself, unable to change anything. I didn't have to be part of any farce but my own. But loneliness was seeing my own shadow cast in an empty field, creeping through the back door like a thief.

"Don't resent me, don't hate me." Those were my last words become the room was sucked into a vacuum of silence. The hum of the A/C was suddenly unbearable, and each the tick tock was so noisy I was close to take the clock from the wall and throw it out of the window.

"I'm sorry if I gave you that impression. I. . . I wasn't thinking straight. Sorry. I was insensitive."

I didn't shift to see his expression.

"So it was just me overthinking." My voice broke, pitch five times higher. Tears may not fall, but on the inside, I was crying an ocean of tears from relief.

"I don't know what else to say than sorry."

"I'm glad it was my imagination," I said, voice trembling.

Seconds passed, maybe a minute or two.

"So, about the message," Kidou said casually, a little too hasty. Still, in the sofa, I turned my whole body to him. Tears back to the well.

"Don't leave it blank."

I cocked my head, or tried to, and asked for an explanation.

He took out his cellphone and showed me the message.

_From: Yuu_

_Subject: What's a hissatsu?_

And the body was blank.

"Ahhh, that, sorry." I feigned a laugh. "I was in a hurry."

"You'll get on people nerves with that." He stuffed the cell phone in its rightful place. "That reminds me, the Commander told us we would be practicing a hissatsu from now on. Each of us."

"That's great!" I brought my hands together. I may see a hissatsu faster than I thought, and I wouldn't even need to go to Teikoku! "What's it called?"

"I have to learn Dark Tornado before the first match."

"Wait." I lifted my palm. There was a hole in that logic. If I noticed that fast then he should have taken less than half. "Isn't Teikoku having a qualifying match? Like Kidokawa?"

"The best team of the country doesn't need to pass a qualifying match," Kidou said, chin sticking out. "Isn't Kidokawa doing the same?" He lifted an eyebrow. "You didn't tell the Commander."

"About?"

"Don't play with me." His tone raising in arrogance, a hint of a smirk in his voice. He was enjoying cornering me with words. A once-in-a-lifetime situation.

"I'm serious, about what?"

"About Kidokawa's new hissatsu."

Oh. My friend was definitely smart.

"Are you going to tell him?" I asked. Between his loyalty to that man and our long friendship, I couldn't tell behind those glasses which he was considering to uphold.

He was silent for two long seconds. Unreadability to a thousand. A bead of cold sweat rolled down my forehead, staining the pillow.

"About what?"

"About what I wonder?" I fumbled my feet and let go of the breath I didn't notice I was holding. "Thank you," I whispered. I hope he doesn't change.

"You know?" He raised his voice, fake as a plastic plant, eager to change the topic. "I really do miss those times when you pulled me around the town. No matter if I was busy or tired." He chuckled. "Like playing in the forest."

"The world seems to be fading. It's not vibrant like before," I confessed. A somber tone played from far away. My heart thumped incessantly against my ribcage. "But at least you're here."

To my words, Kidou grew quiet. The air between us became awkward. I stood quiet, patiently observing and understanding nothing.

"Hey, Yuu. . ."

I stood straight and looked at him. We agreed to call each other by our last names from now on--actually, I was forced to--it was Kidou's idea, something about growing up. If he went back on his own promise it must be important. The tips of my fingers trembled and an alarm flooded my head.

"Do you. . ."

There was silence.

"Do I what?" I finally said. Flashes of the previous boys who fumbled on their words came to mind instantly. The red cheeks, the first words, the shyness. Terrified of the end of the sentence, I wished for us to be interrupted.

Not today, not him. No, no, no.

"No, it's nothing."

Instead of concern, blood raised to my face. I'm wrong. I must be wrong. And it's important, it's obvious. The only shackle that impeded me from exploding and scream were that man's words. I didn't understand why he has to remind me every day.

"Have you taken to heart what I said? Unless you mind your mouth and manners you're unfit to inherit the Sumire Foundation."

But why does that matter? It was Kidou who I was talking to.

"Tell me, now," I spoke with a voice full of power and contempt. It was a fragment of my charisma, a talent that will be useful in the future. Just like Kidou predicted others movements, I moved people according to my wishes. If I learned how to persuade people, it'll someday prove useful. But I didn't want Kidou to serve as practice.

"It's about Teikoku. Nothing important, I promise." It almost sounded like a plea.

.....

After Kidou left, I went down to the kitchen, past the living room and dining room, my bare foot sticking to the white tiles. Sui always complained that it was bad manners, but I couldn't help myself, the cold was soothing, and I didn't want to listen.

An open letter sat on the table beside my notebook. It arrived minutes before Kidou's ride came. I was invited to The Party and not attending was not an option, the Sumire Foundation and the Kidou Financial Group need the support of the organizer, an old man with many contacts in the public security area. But more importantly, it was the place I met Kidou for the first time as the official heir of the Kidou Financial Group. The appointed date was the last Friday of the month. And most certainly that man was going too.

It was past ten when I found Sui drying dinner's dishes with a white cloth. The pickled vegetables for tomorrow's lunch rested on the opposite counter, beside the fridge.

"Sui," I called.

"Yes, ojou-sama, do you need something?"

Though we have known each other for years, even before I met Kidou, she still treats me like one of the masters of the house when I think of her as a sister. I passed my tongue through my lips. I had a bad feeling. I should stop.

"Do you know. . . if I forgot something?" The question was so vague I wouldn't be surprised if she cocked her head and asked _Say again?_

But to my surprise, she nodded and stepped away from the sink in a professional demeanor, went for the door and into her room. After what may have been five minutes, she came back with an envelope and a melancholic expression she poorly suppressed, her lower lip trembling like a newborn lamb.

"The answers are here, right?" I said as I took the envelope.

Sui's bangs hid her eyes as a sign that there was nothing to do but open the envelope. With a slight tremble in my fingers, I pulled up the lip and took a single sheet of paper. A sharp headache assaulted and my tongue tasted acid as if I had just drunk a whole soda can in one sip. Stop, stop it, please.

I shut up the voice that yelled to not unfold the paper, saying I would regret it and that the truth wasn't worth the trouble of listening to a little funny feeling that swelled in my chest whenever the topic was the near past. That a life of ignorance was better than a life of depression and nightmares. But if the truth is cruel, then I will change it. If I couldn't change it, then I will learn to bear it.

I must see one side of the fragment. I have the right to.

I pushed away all these warnings, I flipped the paper, and read the contents.

The writing was crooked and uneven, like doing homework minutes before class starts. They had signs anger and sadness and a couple of dry tears at the bottom. A direct message from me to me answering all the questions I had and would have if I had just taken the time to think before and after reading this.

_Your parents are dead._

I was with my parents at home when the lights went out, the door flung open, and two shots were fired. Because of the streetlight that peered from the windows, not only did I saw my parents fall and break like chandeliers, but a hole in their heads where a red liquid dripped out like used ketchup and the darkness inside.

And a laugh, I heard a laugh. It was that man's. I'm sure of it. No one believes me but I'm sure it was him.

Ever since the thirteenth of February, I have been trapped in a loop between reality and dreams. Neither were real to me, just like two sides of a coin, similar to life and death. And only once you feel them close you find the value of its opposite. Over and over, I had read this piece of paper and despaired then forgot, only to start this never-ending loop over and over. I had become a wanderer in the desert of my memories.

The message explained the feeling of abandonment I felt in the nursery office. A page was ripped off my memories and it always came back to the paper I was holding which I wrote to not make Sui tell the same truth again. In other words, it was the end of the journey.

I was falling from the sky at high speed. Clouds swayed like pendulums waving goodbye, reducing in size each second. Nearby buildings grew like giants from the sides which closed off the view of a blue sky like a gate. Now that I had the fragment of the truth, I wasn't welcomed to the land of dreams because I chose to not run. The overwhelming pressure and fear awakened the sharp sound from my dreams. It was just my own voice. And when my back hit the ground, the memories came back with the shock.

Every night I woke up screaming, asking for my parents and cursing that man. Now that the picture was clear, the silver had returned to its rightful place and its shape was that man's face.

"Ka. . . Kage. . . He. . . He killed them! He killed my parents. They trusted him and he stabbed them in the back!" There was no grief. Just fear and remorse. Fear of the thing that lurks in the shadows, the thought that I'll be the next victim when I knew my life was in no danger. Remorse of the powerless of the self I deny, the current me I despise, and the memory that wakes me every night.

All this time, Sui had a terrified expression; I had her go through this many times. Me breaking in front of her, throwing up, and stumbling to bed as if I had no soul.

Tonight was the time of nightmares. It won't be a dream, but reality.

As I began to lose consciousness, a string fell deep in the well before revealing its true form. Kidou's voice resonated deep in my mind. It's all about trying. His encouragement pushed me to see the world outside the well, past the loop, behind the clouds.

With my last conscious breath, I swore to myself this was the last loop I would fall. Otherwise, nothing will begin, nothing will end, and nothing with change.

**The Determination that is Witnessed | End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was so much to say and show, and while most of it is exposition because it's important to set the background, it's not my intention for Sumire to look like an introvert. I had to throw the basics of their friendship as there won't be much more time for Kidou later, so it turned pretty long. I try to not make him OOC, but there are a few things I have to change about him. I think when stuff starts to happen there will be less exposition thus less inside thinking. Extroverts are not my area of expertise but I find myself writing them. Idk y. Many thanks to animatix07 for the opinion. And the reason why I pushed forward the date is because it's stressing me out. Way too much.
> 
> Published: March 19th, 2017


	6. Invisible Chains

**Chapter 5 | Invisible Chains**

Afterschool study with Gouenji was as fun as I expected. Not much. But it was an eye-opening experience about the real meaning of the dreaded exam. The days swiftly passed, and soon it was Friday, second period. My pencil scribbled steadily, whether the answers were correct or not wasn't yet of my concern. As long as I got the process right, I could pass.

The first day, I asked Gouenji, "You're not busy?"

"What?" Sitting across the table, Gouenji looked up from the paper.

"I'm asking if it's not a bother for you to help me." My legs swung back and forth as I waited with anticipation for his answer. He was thinking up exercises for me to solve after finishing the problems from our textbooks.

"Not really." He returned his attention to the sheet. Having nothing to do, I peered out of the window on top of a low shelf while leaning on the short end of the table, seeing as I was being a bother while he was diligently focusing on the task. Stretching my sore shoulders from all that writing, I looked around the almost-deserted library except for the woman in the counter and a girl absorbed in her studies two tables behind. The stillness in the air and the smell of old books felt like home, and I was hit by a strong impulse of browsing through the shelves while taking out the mental list of the books I didn't have.

"I'm bored," I said to myself in a sing-song voice. Gouenji made no comment.

"In any case," Gouenji said, there was a noise of a pencil hitting the table as if asking for attention, "I didn't have a choice."

I gestured him to go on bringing my eyes.

"If I didn't help you, you would most likely fail. Sakaki-sensei would have told our homeroom teacher and her, in turn, would have told Nikaidou-kantoku." He locked our eyes for a dramatic effect, carrying on in that matter-of-factly tone Kidou _loved_ to use, which caused my eyes to narrow instinctively. "He would have put you off the team until midterms, after the tournament." His eyes grew soft, a sight he may reserve for someone special, as he hadn't shown those eyes to anyone as far as my knowledge goes. "I told you, we can't work without you."

"You're saying you're indispensable for my grade?" I couldn't help but snort, and immediately realized I shouldn't have done that when his eyes widened ever so slightly. But I went on. I wanted to leave this clear in order to leave behind the pain his words at the rooftop brought. A little thorn, I reassured to myself. "It's true you were the first person I asked, but that didn't mean you were the only choice." My words came out harsher than I wanted them to. His eyes flickered around the room, leaning his head on his palm so I couldn't see his lips, his shoulders tensed up.

"I'm thankful for your help, Gouenji-kun." I returned to my seat and spoke softly, trying to not hurt his pride and smooth over the awkward air that was settling. I put on a smile. "That means I'm not the only one at stake, but the entire club."

He nodded, unfocused eyes drilling holes into the paper. I could see in his eyes I had blown up his inflated ego, leaving him in an uncomfortable position of a misunderstanding that he was responsible for. I failed to take into account his tendency of silent treatment and went all out. I bit my lip and cursed my inconsiderate attitude, realizing that we weren't even close enough to quarrel or have a petty dispute over this and that.

"I'll do my best," I reaffirmed in a cheery yet calm tone. The words resonated hollow in my ears, a self-mocking smile plastering my lips. There was a faint, incomplete feeling sending a chill down my back, and it wasn't until I became stuck in set problem eight and stared at the blackboard the feeling materialized into words.

_For whose sake was I giving my all?_

Was it the team, Gouenji, Kageyama, or perhaps Kidou? For a few seconds, I stopped writing, pushing the thought back where it belonged, in the depths of my psyche, right beside truths that would leave me at ease in a school like Teikoku where results, facts, and the painful truth were the principle. There are things that shouldn't be wondered, truths that shouldn't be spoken.

.....

"How was it, Sumire-san?" Mistumiya asked, approaching my seat. "Confident you passed?"

"It was horrible." My forehead was feverish hot, and the summer sun that scorched directly to the classroom, aiming at _my_ _seat,_ wasn't helping in the least. "Next time let's study together." I held my head in pain, chugging down the last bit of water from my bottle.

"Sure!" Mitsumiya pointed at Chiyo-chan with her chin, who returned the gesture with a confused expression. "I'm sure you need help too." She grinned, nudging her arm.

Chiyo-chan scratched her leather black hair, ponytail swinging to and fro, with a sheepish laugh. "That's right. I'm in the same situation as Sumire-san."

Gouenji's words resonated at the back of my mind. _'You look like the kind of person that cares about what others think.'_ I bit my lip, putting up a bright tone, "Then, for the midterm, we have to stick together."

In between the two, I noticed Ryuugamine-san's brief glance from the other side of the classroom and waved. "Ryuugamine-san, how did it go?" Knowing her personality, my voice reverberated among the bustling class and caught our classmates' attention.

She detached from the notebook in her hands, probably checking the answers of the quiz, cold eyes analyzing the situation. "Good," she answered in a quiet voice. Before going back to her notes, she gave a second-long look to Mitsumiya and Chiyo-chan I didn't miss, and her expression visibly changed to one of pain.

"After Art, you two _really_ get along." After two seconds of dead silence, Mitsumiya hummed, bringing the attention back to this side of the room. Her usual humorous undertone was alarmingly threatening. I pushed away the thought of her being jealous with a fake chuckle. The class had resumed their cheerful chattering.

"It was a cool dragon," Chiyo-chan interjected. Remembering the day I paired up with Ryuugamine-san, she crossed her arms in deep thought. "An anthro. . ."

"Anthropomorph. It was an anthropomorphic drawing of Ryuugamine-san," I answered.

Chiyo-chan nodded repeatedly with sparkling eyes, saying how our classmates stared in awe at the golden scaled dragon I transformed my art partner into. After class, I invited her to take her lunch with us, to which she declined; but when I mentioned if she wouldn't mind having lunch with me, she seemed pleased. At that point, I believed she wasn't the type to merge with groups. Now, it seemed it was personal. I was in a daze.

_When did it happen?_

Losing the chance to ask what happened between Mitsumiya and Ryuugamine-san, we went back to our seats at the teacher's call.

.....

At lunchtime, I looked for Gouenji to talk about the quiz, but he had left to who-knows-where. Instead, I sat with Mitsumiya and Chiyo-chan and had a friendly chatter after eating our lunches.

"Mitsumiya, do you know where's the music room?" Craving to play the violin after talking about favorite bands, I asked the question I was holding under my breath for a while.

"Our classroom?"

"Where the school keeps the instruments. I would like to borrow a violin." Even though I had one at home, bringing an extra bag along with my manager uniform would leave the space my seat excessively tight.

"You mean the music ensemble room? I think that's where they keep them," she answered pensively.

"That's so lady-like, Sumire-san! I barely know how to play the guitar," Chiyo-chan chirped.

"Of course not." I waved my hand dismissively, "Chiyo-chan you're also amazing. I wish I knew how to defend myself." Staring at her thick, brawny arms, I was painfully aware of how physically weak I was, apparent in the scorching heat I must hide from. Singled out on PE class, I could only stare as my classmates enjoyed moving around, tired but with bright expressions filled with youth.

The sound of Mitsumiya's phone closing shut interrupted our conversation. I turned to her in hopes Chiyo-chan would drop the subject.

"I asked a friend."

"Yes!" I pumped a fist into the air, feeling the pair's eyes on me. I leaned for a thank you hug to which Mitsumiya jumped away from, jumping like a cat. She made an X with her arms and warned, no hugs.

....

I left the classroom, inclined to go to the vending machine at end of the hall. Mitsumiya had to help the teacher bring some materials for the next class, and Chiyo-chan was looking for the advisor of the Judo club, who I believe is an old family friend, to announce the good news about the quiz. Without any purpose inside, I decided to make use of my allowance and quench my thirst for a sugary drink. On my way out, Gouenji was reading a stray paper with furrowed eyebrows, the hissatsu's instructions perhaps. The match was in three days and the technique wasn't complete.

Surprisingly, I wasn't the only one with the idea. Ryuugamine-san was drinking from a pink carton, browsing through the various options with a cool expression, humming a melody I recognized as Ode to Joy.

"Ryuugamine-san. Hello."

The person in question reacted to my greeting, jolting and backing away before answering in a calm, friendly manner.

I was taking out my wallet as I noticed the words from the carton in her hand and was going to make an attempt to read them. "Strawberry milk," she answered before I asked.

Without giving much thought, I bought a carton of strawberry milk, reaching for the left-most button in the fourth row from the top, thankfully it was at reach, and sat on the small bench in front of the machine, Ryuugamine-san soon following.

A conversation didn't arise until I poked the thin aluminum layer with the straw. "I believe I haven't asked before. What do you like to do?"

Ryuugamine-san flinched as if surprised I wanted to make some small talk despite being physically close. Neither expected this encounter after what happened before lunch, but I tried not to mind. "Umm, not much." Her voice was wobbly and insecure. She averted her face when I tried to peer and find what had her nervous. I was getting convinced by the second the Mitsumiya, though I wasn't sure about Chiyo, were the cause of the change in her demeanor.

Ryuugamine Miyuki was a girl able to stand up alone. Scores were enough to make her the top of the grade, but it isn't until one reaches out and notices she is up there all by herself. If my goal was the summit, then I had to consider my next steps.

"Then, what about books?" I asked patiently.

"I don't like to read, or books," she whispered. Looking at the floor as her fingers twirled, she contradicted the picture of the mighty dragon I drew, rising a sense of forlorn that if left untreated, would turn into boiling anger. Ryuugamine-san wasn't unsociable but was at loss on how to interact with people in general. While I was basked in light on a daily basis, Ryuugamine-san preferred the dark and quiet. After asking with uttermost subtlety, I was told most first year students were acquainted with the three top, but they couldn't put a name with a face in her case. She was a rumor; if I were to give a more accurate description, a ghost. Thus, Gouenji and I were among the well-known faces in the third building.

"Do you like music?" I was desperately searching for a common ground to fill the gap in between strangers and acquaintances. The distance between us was wider than the distance between the Sun and the dark side of the Moon, two objects that will never share the same orbit.

A wistful smile rose to her face. I had no to reason to back up the alarm that rang in my head.

"I like music," she said in a soft voice, almost whispering as if she was confiding me with a secret.

"What type?" I asked carefully, like pouring hope in a glass.

"Classics. I don't listen to them that much though." She stood up and threw the empty carton in a nearby trash can before following the strangely solitary hallway, perhaps back to the classroom.

Startled by her actions, I stood bewildered as the distance grew. If it were my mother, she would let her go, wait until she entered the classroom and not ask for an explanation while calmly accepting any kind of future interaction was no longer possible. But I wasn't my mother, and I wasn't as mature. An uncomfortable premonition kicked me in the back to stand up, willing to face the problem head on.

"Ryuugamine-san! I--"

"Mitsumiya-san and Odayaka-san are nice people," she said, rooted to the spot. Her voice resonated clearly despite the distance, just like in our previous conversations. "They will have your back and support you. Much better than me," she whispered.

At those words, her actions clicked. She didn't feel capable of getting along with me while Mitsumiya and Chiyo-chan were around. But I digressed. I saw the chance for those three to make amends with Ryuugamine-san's decisiveness. Her unyielding back as she retreated was proof of it.

"I think. . . we can become good friends. I have thought that for a while." I curled my hands into fists and swallowed my pride, taking one step forward. "I want to keep talking to you and know you better. I don't care what happened between you three. This is about you and me." I had yet to face those two with such honesty and trust for the sake of our friendship.

Embarrassing as it may, I spelled it out to Ryuugamine-san. I was confident Ryuugamine Miyuki had everything I lacked and needed, and I was dying to know what was the root of that strength; the fear of betrayal slipped from my mind around her, embracing me in a gentle melody I couldn't get enough of.

_I didn't want to make up for the lost time, but, as late as it may, to fulfill my promise._

Ryuugamine-san stopped. I detected a dilemma from the shifting in her feet. Her long bangs hid her eyes, she faced my way ever so slightly and spoke in a cold tone. "It's better if you don't. We can pretend we're strangers." Even if her intention was to push me away, there was a blatant contradiction. A hint of her true feelings had quietly slipped in. She had hope, willing to pretend she didn't know me until her issue was solved. But the will to resolve it didn't emanate from her. She was perfectly fine with a fleeting dream.

"Ryuugamine-san," I pleaded, "do you want to be alone? Isn't it scary to not connect with anyone? It scares me. When you are alone, even summers are cold." Despite my heartfelt words, she resumed walking, entering the classroom without a doubt in her demeanor or a second glance. Pretending to forget what we obviously didn't, I was still basked in the blinding light coming from the windows as she returned to the dark little corner I temporarily took her from. At least for less than a week, both sides of moon wallowed in light.

A shiver hit my cold body despite the heat, and I was alone.

 **Invisible Chains** ****|** ** **End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First time I write an all-girls chapter and left Gouenji in the background. Female friendships are soooo complicated.
> 
> Hello. It's been a while. What do you guys think about Ryuugamine? I wonder if her appearance was too sudden, and if she left you with a '?'.
> 
> There are only a few chapters left until the introduction which pumps me up. I managed to finish this chapter in the middle of finals somehow. I was planning to update way earlier but the previous draft didn't feel right so I had to rewrite it.
> 
> Up until now, do you think Yuu leans towards black, white or is she a gray character?
> 
> Published: April 21st, 2017


	7. When You Gaze Upon The Abyss

**Chapter 6 |** **When You Gaze Upon The Abyss**

The training schedule for that week fluctuated between Gouenji and me occupying one-half of the field, focusing on Fire Tornado, and mock matches where the whole team participated. When we were brainstorming the technique's form, the conscience I had put to sleep the day I signed up for the club, muttering to myself it was for a good cause, opened its eyes. Perhaps with each of Gouenji's smile and chuckles, both at school and after, my conscience was subjected to a defibrillator, and thus had resuscitated. Awakening in the middle of being swallowed in a quicksand of guilt, I was unable to loose my lower half from its iron grip. I braced myself from the panic that flowed like a river with the thought that it was only a gust of wind flickering around my waist. After all, what I desired was on the other side. Something more important than social status and duties.

In my hands, I had a pen and a notebook. The same notebook I handed to that man. The same notebook I photocopied and presented  to each player so they discussed and debated their strengths and weaknesses, and received feedback to improve. The same notebook that was the proof of my loyalty and betrayal. In the back, there were drawings of possible portrayals of Fire Tornado I had designed, to which I grew attached to at some point, and looked back at them with a warm smile.

Bringing my attention to the field, I followed with my eyes as Gouenji moved up towards the goal, skillfully evading the players that aimed for the ball at his feet. When he reached the shooting area, he jumped and rotated on his axis, his foot crashing against the ball for the finishing touch of a plain overhead shoot.

There was no way of knowing what was lacking in his form. His kicks had enough power, that's for sure. I told myself Gouenji's praise was nothing more than lip service, hollow as the eyes that stared at him. After all, I had no talent for soccer. What I had written in that notebook had as much value as an old, honeycombed dress.

In that moment, Kidou's preposterous offer from a few days back pierced as a ray of light to my clouding mood. I hadn't accepted, but at the same time hadn't rejected. For an instant, learning soccer from him didn't seem like a bad idea. But as most of them, the desire of retreating to those days was impregnated like a putrid smell that no detergent could clean off. Kidou, like me, had his hands tied, ropes tearing him between the memories of the good old days and the duties he is responsible for fulfilling. Even so, I was grateful when he mentioned the violin; it was a fragment of my past self I mustn't lose. I should have been picking up the pieces of my past self, and return to the path I had gone astray from. After all, it was for the future of the Sumire Foundation.

After an hour so, I took the sports drinks from the club room to a nearby water fountain beside the first gym, humming a catchy tune from a variety tv program as I filled them to the top. Coach Nikaidou's sudden keen eye to the players after glancing at his watch was an accurate sign that break was fifteen minutes away. To my luck, the sports' clubrooms, including ours, were right beside the field, making the trip to and fro less time-consuming. And if not for the trees where hints of spring were falling near the far wall, I couldn't placidly have my back against the third building and look over the team.

With a towel, I wiped the containers before taking them to the bench and waiting for break time, distributing them after Coach Nikaidou's voice rang across the field.

There was one bottle left in my hand. The boys who usually decided to mingle by themselves received one, and so did the pairs. I walked to a group of three, extending the bottle as if I was handling it to a wild animal.

"Here, Mukata-senpai." There was a small pause before saying the name. Three heads turned to my call, each with slight facial differences. "I'll bring yours in a moment," I said to no one in particular as the bottle had no owner yet. Then, the one with dark hair took the container without a word.

Here, Mukata-senpai."

"Like, if you saw us together, you should have brought three." The younger one scowled, snatching the bottle from my hand in the process. It wasn't like I couldn't differentiate them; I didn't feel compelled to. I was about to say their standing wasn't equal as the right to order me around. But instead, I smiled, acknowledging his statement and saying I would keep it in mind. The Mukata triplets were always together, forming a repelling barrier against foreign people. My body shook when I had a conversation with them, their voices were a screech like nails clawing against an old-fashioned blackboard, barging into my ears without permission.

Leaving with a bad taste in my mouth, I took a mint, snatched more drinks, and resumed to pass them around the boys.

"Sumire." I found Gouenji with an open bottle in hand as I turned. He scratched his head and looked around as if searching for the right words.

"Do you need--"

"How was the test?" He interrupted.

I blinked twice. The event had flown away from my mind as if it hadn't been there in the first place. I clenched the last bottle to be delivered in my hand, a flash of today's events passing through my eyes; mainly, Ryuugamine-san's back. I said I may have passed and triple-checked the process before submitting the quiz.

Gouenji chuckled and nodded to himself. "That's good." He put a hand on his hip, proud and comfortable in his own skin.

I was sincerely grateful for his help regardless of his motives. "I have to thank you somehow," I said sweetly.

Gouenji recoiled, his hand dropping to the side. "It's alright. Don't do anything."

"I don't--"

"It's fine!" His pitch rose with an edge. But before I could protest, someone tapped my shoulder.

"Ah, I'm sorry." I gave the bottle to  Mitsumine-senpai. When I turned back, Gouenji had left, bouncing a ball on his knee despite break being in effect.

Whether it was a mirage or wishful thinking, he didn't seem entirely concentrated in the task. Clearly, the ball wasn't enough of a confidante to his worries.

.....

While I was writing in the notebook, looking down from the action to the words filling the page, I heard a scream. A second later, my vision turned a hundred eighty degrees and I was on the ground and in pain. As I admired the cloudless sky, loud screams came from far away. Apart from a blurry sight and clogged nostrils, my other senses were fine.

Three black silhouettes poked against the blue background, their bodies increasing the surroundings by a few degrees. Pushing upwards to a sitting position amidst the concerned voices, I passed one hand against my itchy nose, covering a sneeze that was triggered by a sudden hotness, and the other on the ground, assessing the situation as my fingers caressed the gentle grass.

"And I was confident I had gotten used to evading balls," I said.

"There are those days," Tobiyama answered, uncertainty in his tone.

There were chuckles.

Contrary to my protests, I was taken to the closest nurse office by Coach Nikaidou's order. The nurse checked for a concussion, internal bleeding, and whatnot when my nose secreted a sticky liquid.

In half an hour, I returned to the pitch with Yakata-kun who had just come to check up on me.

"That was quite the fall." He commented.

"You should get over the bad habit of sending your manager to the nurse office," I grumbled, holding the urge to scratch my bandaged nose. The nurse said by Monday I would be fine. As I left the office, I took a peek at my appearance. The bandage took a lot of space on my face. It wasn't cute. It wasn't pretty either.

Yakata-kun cleaned the tears off the corners of his eyes after a good laugh. I also cracked a smile, holding my hand down from the insatiable urge. "Well, you have every reason to be mad," he said.

I told him I wasn't mad, but that it was bothersome to be like this. I pointed at the nurse's treatment. It was itchy and warm.

After another laughing fit and a sneeze in between, Yakata-kun said between chuckles, "Captain was practicing the hissatsu. Then the ball went astray."

Another sneeze was creeping up. But I held it down, contorting my face and the tape around the bandage. "Did it look different from usual?" I asked curiously. At least, it felt different from the usual. When you are hit constantly, you learn what is a normal shoot with the face.

"Same as always. Why?"

"I'm not sure." I caressed my fingers against the bandage, unsure if this warmth was natural. "I'm not sure at all." As if hit by a jolt of electricity, my instincts suddenly kicked in, and I sprinted towards the field.

We found everyone looking at us strangely. As Yakata-kun was obviously faster than me, whose only exercise was running around the school, it took a few minutes.

"Sumire-san wants to check something." Then lowered his tone, "or something like that."

I approached a stone-faced Gouenji after I regaining my breath, detecting a shred of guilt in his eyes as his eyes fell on the bandage on my nose.

"Captain," I began, standing closer than it was socially acceptable, "did you find something?"

I felt all the eyes on us. Gouenji seemed to ponder. "Maybe," he said slowly.

I asked if he noticed the ball's temperature. "I believe it was hotter than normal."

"It's summer. That's not surprising." He shrugged.

"Let's make sure. If you repeat the same steps we'll now."

Although Gouenji looked reluctant, he complied. To the naked eye, it was a normal shoot.

He received the ball from Naazan-senpai. "It's hot," he said, eyes shining. "It's working."

.....

Before leaving the school grounds for the day, I had to return what was taken from the clubroom. Soccer balls, dry sports drinks, towels, and whatnot. This last chore began about twenty minutes before the school's closing announcement was broadcasted. A formal but monotone female voice stated in two hours the school will close, directed to the honor students who apart from being part of a club, studied until the last minute available. The team was gathered around Coach Nikaidou, discussing their strategies for the match and making the final adjustments to the lineup as I hurried to the sink, sports drinks in hand.

After cleaning the sports drinks, I made my way to the clubroom to leave the door open so I could make the trips with less trouble, a few bottle against my chest. The sun had dropped low in the sky, dark hues and long shadows stretched skywards and along the earth respectively. As if a nightmare was about to unfold.

When the clubroom's inside was revealed, I heard a dry sound of hollow containers thumping against the ground. Inside, distinguishing the chairs from the table and from the floor was futile. The room was enveloped in a deep, uniform blackness that quietly seeped out, branching out like thin roots to the outside. As if it had there the entire time, there was a sound of a piano coming somewhere inside. The melody hit close to home; it was the song that played at my parent's funeral, Marcha funébre, or as I called it, the song of death. Whose idea was that Kidou played instead of paying a professional was over me. There was money. I speculated it was either that man or his father, paying their respects in their own way; they were old friends after all. Although, I had no memories of the funeral, for all I remember was nodding to plenty of people cloaked in black, perhaps giving their condolences.

The darkness inched closer as I was frozen to the spot, my legs rooted to the ground. I made a sound, but no words came out. No help or a scream. My voice was drowned in the after wave of fear along with the thought of being trapped inside the darkness that swallows all good. My senses would be destroyed, and I would be unable to shed tears of happiness and sadness. As the surroundings suddenly dropped in temperature, a sole regret came as a soft chime tingling. I hadn't apologized to Kidou. The foolish things I yelled in a half-crazed state after my parents' tragedy corrupted our innocent friendship, pushing away the hand he extended to my broken self left us in a state of half-friends, half-enemies, for Kidou held and hid more grudges than that man, making them his own. The arm-length distance between our bodies was a microcosmos, where we sat in opposite corners. Thus, I unconsciously promised, if someday I were grateful from the bottom of my heart for being pulled into this sport that I fathomed nothing about, I would thank him with a sincerity I hadn't gifted myself to that day.

If Romeo and Juliet had been foolish enough to follow their feelings, throwing away the organization they swore loyalty to, then Kidou and I were just as foolish to hold onto both.

But at least, I wanted to hug him one last time. I desperately wanted to see him and wash off that regret.

At the same time my vision was swallowed, unable to distinguish left from right, pain shot through my arm after hearing a thud. Though my vision had blackened, the hurried steps of the others closing by seemed clear.

The inside of the darkness spoke. It's voice echoing directly in my head.

_"Greetings, milady."_

After several attempts to produce sound, I said leave, now.

It responded flashing a set of big white teeth in a crescent moon shape, its mouth twisted as it spoke. Its voice was neither male nor female, but a voice artificially filtered that rubbed you the wrong way.

 _"No can do, milady. For you see, we are one. When will you be satisfied playing this game of cat and mouse by yourself? The game has long ended. I am lonely, and you are too."_ The corners of its mouth curled cup. _"I will accept everything you hate about yourself. Even what that boy doesn't. So why are you not eager to return to the path you were meant to?"_ It said disappointedly, the tone raising nothing but rage.

"Silence. That's my choice. And I won't accept you. Because that's not--that's not the person I want to be. There must be. . . another way." I screamed, my voice trailing off towards the end.

_"Reality demands to be prepared to hurt and be hurt, there is no way around. It is an eat or be eaten world. Where the one that makes the first move is the winner. With your claws, work your way back the world. You are not fit for a puny role."_

"That's absurd. Why do people have to hurt each other? My fangs were cut, and my claws are dull. I can't show myself in this pitiful state. I am not qualified. First, I have to achieve something great."

There was a silence. As if it was mulling over a reply.

 _"You will fathom the meaninglessness of that farce soon, milady. Those boys, what do they know about you, but what the rest does? Great things cannot be achieved as an assistant in the shadows. You must shine."_ Its words echoed deeply in me. Then, its presence vanished in thin air.

Either way, my fangs were cut, and my claws were dull. I was an abandoned tiger cub, painting over a tragedy with bright watercolors that would otherwise wash away with the tiniest droplet. In that state, if I were alone, I wouldn't survive.

**When You Gaze Upon The Abyss | End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to shorten the length of the chapters, but everything seems important. If you think something can be cut and makes it boring please tell me.
> 
> Published: May 9th, 2017


	8. The View From The Ground

**Chapter 7 |** **The View From The Ground**

Despite my protests and explanations, Coach Nikaidou prohibited to come back to the club unless I had a notice from a physician, stating I was allowed to participate in club activities. I clenched the bed covers around my waist, biting my lip in frustration. I didn't tell him what truly happened, only that it wasn't related to any healthy issues. Breaking my promise and causing trouble for everyone again, I hid my head between my knees, muttering to myself self-condemning words. I would have to visit the hospital over the weekend to retrive that note. The monthly visit was due soon anyway, so I didn't mind. As I left the school, I contacted the doctor to schedule an appointment for the following day.

....

The next day, instead of heading to the grounds after school ended, I made my way to the music room in the fourth building. Little choice did I have but wait a few days until the violin at home was in proper form, purchasing the necessary implements that ran out beforehand. Mitsumiya told me the room number where the music ensemble met, and I had the idea of staying for a while if possible. I wasn't set on leaving the club. I just went to retrieve a fragment of myself. Perhaps the biggest one.

By the time I entered the building, I wasn't bothered by the hollow accomplishment of barely passing Sakaki-sensei's test, setting my hopes in an afternoon of letting my fingers that ached to go wild after so long, and filling my life with vivid colors that had grown dull.

A myriad of instruments could be heard from upstairs, signaling practice was in session. However, halfway the journey to the last floor, the building sank into silence; the hallway was just as quiet. The special classroom that served as their official clubroom was deep inside.

"Hello," I said as I opened the door, "am I interrupting?" I peered inside the room, bashfully surveying the surroundings. Special classrooms were as big as the storage rooms, or at least they were supposed to. Metallic cages filled with black instrument cases formed a partition, causing the illusion of a tight room. At the end of the narrow way, three students turned their heads at the sound of my voice; a boy who looked like a third year and two female second years, going by the color of their ribbons.

"Heya. What brings you here?" The boy asked.

"I want to j--" I bit my tongue before I finished, remembering what I truly came here for and quickly composed myself. "I would like to borrow a violin. Is there any available?"

"Oh, sure!" He energetically beckoned to come inside. "So, you play? I thought we had the only violinist in the school." Perhaps he was referring to that violinist. The one I heard the other day.

"I believe I have heard them play. It was wonderful."

Until then, I had never met another violinist and neither one that performed with a crude angsty style. Although it was a common instrument to learn at an early age, only those with steel perseverance remained as they grew. Each note from that violinist was a tear, laying bare a profound pain only music could express. While listening to that song, I imagined how the mysterious player and I would sound together; the violinist seemed to have experience with dysphoria and heartache, and I excelled in brightening the audience with cheerful songs. My stomach fluttered at the thought of us playing Bach's Double Violin Concerto, bringing out our individual strengths. To my disappointment, it would be rude to ask for the name of that person if I didn't show interest in joining. I felt slightly frustrated.

Before the boy could reply, a girl with unruly hair spoke to someone deeper into the room. "Isn't it great Ryuugamine- _san_? You have a fan." She put emphasis in the prefix as if she was mocking the politeness she had to treat the other party.

My feet stopped at the name, momentarily stunned. It wouldn't be odd for two students to share the same last name, so I didn't press on the issue, and neither the one I believed was the president reacted to the girl's comment, turning around the corner. I exchanged a greeting with the girls before I caught up with him, consuming the sight of the rest of room.

Giving it an air of a half-used classroom, desks and chairs were pushed aside, forming a wall that blocked the windows that faced the hallway. The sun's afternoon rays entered from the naked windows, bathing the room and a blonde girl in a warm glow.

"Good afternoon," I said. The president was searching for something in the back, and I kept some distance from the interior, half-stunned and half-stiff because of the sight of the girl that filled me with bitterness.

Ryuugamine-san was sitting, her back facing the window. She had a music sheet in one hand, a sandwich with the seal of the school store in the other, and a violin in the adjacent desk. Giving me nothing more than a glance, she answered with a nod, no awkwardness in the gesture, and was back to scrutinizing the piece as if it was a test she was preparing for. It seemed I was the only one baffled at the encounter, for she didn't give a sign of appreciation, or she was and was faking it well. I pretended to smile, masking the heavy emotions that took hold.

"Are you the other violinist?"

"Yeah."

"I see. You are a good player, Ryuugamine-san. It was Beethoven's Violin Sonata, wasn't it?"

"Thank you. You have good ears too, Sumire-san," she answered coolly, unyielding eyes glued to the paper, she shoved to my face we were mere acquaintances. I tried to hide my face between my bangs, as I could feel how the muscles distorted to an ugly grimace. It seemed she wasn't going to give a gesture of familiarity and had taken her words to heart. I wasn't sure how could you define our relationship. Pretended acquaintances? Absurd. A game of make-believe couldn't hold for long; one would break first. And I was about to.

Unable to bear the sight of her any longer, I shifted my eyes to the president. He was skimming through stacks of papers, loudly mumbling to himself from time to time.

I was mindful of stepping into Ryuumine-san's territory. If she was interested in music as strongly as she was showing by reading that stupid paper and ignoring me, then I didn't start another conversation as a sign of respect and unconscious rancor.

The president, perhaps sensing the discomfort between us, brought a copy of rental instruments at the right time. Taking a stray chair conveniently away from Ryuugamine-san, I read the rental form before filling it out each section. I was compelled to witness their practice, but as if I had flipped a switch in her as I entered deeper into the room, Ryuugamine-san's unwelcoming aura and hostile gaze beckoned I take my leave as soon as I had finished my business.

The boy called out to someone in the room. Feeling a gaze over me, I brought my eyes up. "Are you good?" He asked, causing an uncharacteristic reaction from Ryuugamine-san; a reticent complaint was caught in her throat, her body kneeling over the desk, carefully scrutinizing the boy.

"Of course," I replied, giving him the form.

"How good?" He lifted an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk flicked his lips. I was being tested.

"Good enough," I replied accordingly in the clearest voice I could muster, suppressing an otherwise arrogant response. I fixed with a strand of stray hair behind my ear.

"Then, can you perform right now, like here?"

"I don't mind." I pondered, feeling a grin dancing on my lips, "actually, I perform better in crowds."

"Heh?" the girl with unruly hair sang, to which the other giggled, "You have a rival, Ryuugamine- _san_." The adressed girl turned to her and lowered her brows. I chew my lip, anger boiling in my stomach for the second time. Ryuugamine-san wouldn't appreciate it if I stood up for her, and the girl was older.

"Ryuugamine is pretty good." The president interrupted the catfight that would definitely unfold, for Ryuugamine-san returned the girl's gesture with the coldest glare I had ever seen. "Then what about making it a competition?" He proposed. "You don't have to if you don't want, Ryuugamine."

"Don't scare the first year, vice-prez," the other girl commented with a fake honey voice, "she looks confident." Clearly, she was in Ryuugamine-san's side, and for some reason, I was a victim of misplaced bitterness from these members. The vice-president seemed to be my only ally, even if his demeanor had twisted a hundred eighty degrees, and except for the fact that he had just forced a faceoff between Ryuugamine-san and me.

If I backed down, those previous confident words would be reduced to nothing, and I would leave a negative impression. I couldn't afford that. Even worse, I wouldn't accept it. So I laughed at the two-faced girl's words.

"It's alright. I don't believe I can lose." I feared that act of confidence would have the opposite effect, to the outside eye looking like a pretentious girl that wanted to stir trouble. As the air in the room grew thin, the other party involved in the deal finally spoke.

"Fine."

My heart jumped. Deep inside, I wanted to assess Ryuugamine-san's abilities against another player. If she was as good as she sounded in an objective scale, perhaps she might pose a challenge.

_Because I knew that achievements without sacrifice were nothing more than flimsy imitations of the real thing._

After a round of rock, paper, scissors, it was decided she would perform first. The song was Bach's Chaconne from Partita No. 2 in D minor. The competitors were familiar with it, and neither had performed it to an audience, so our raw skills would to make up for the lack of practice. Each was given a music sheet and ten minutes to look over it. Although I preferred to listen to a performance and absorb the overall tone the piece was made to produce, there was not enough time.

Even if later I realized that song was chosen to highlight her strengths, I wouldn't have withdrawn from the challenge. I was having so much fun I couldn't suppress the grin that was rooted in my face.

Time was up. Hesitantly, I took a seat beside the girls, while the vice-president had brought a chair and sat nearby.

As Ryuugamine-san fine-tuned the instrument on the improvised stage, I closed my eyes, soon after being enveloped in the notes that came from her heart. My body began to quiver, overwhelmed by a feeling of bottomless sadness. It was then that I noticed all the songs that Ryuugamine-san played had one element in common. Angst. As musicians, no, perhaps as creatives, we had to push ourselves to try new challenges to evolve. Even if I felt my body was about to be crushed in depression and succumb to despair, just like that day when I decided there is was no point in moving on without my parents to guide me, I couldn't lose myself in the feeling. There wasn't a hint or gesture from the others they were on the vergue of breaking down in tears. That was the limit of Ryuugamine-san's music.

However, in the duration of that song, I felt how it was to live in Ryuugamine-san's despondent world. She was sitting on top of a high building, gazing at common folk live their dull lives as I admire her from the sidewalk.

Perhaps she was aware of her limits, and in reality, there was no one to challenge her. After all, she was the top student of the grade.

My eyes opened as the song pulled to a diminuendo. I had a feeling our loneliness was similar. We were alone because we were ambitious, bound by no one as we aimed to the top.

I clapped effortlessly, like after a play you didn't enjoy but had to praise the actor's effort in some way.

"Let's keep our thoughts until the end, whaddya think?" The girls agreed to the president's idea. Ryugamine-san's backed down from the stage.

The two-faced girl gave me a violin with a sour expression. I gripped it from the neck, relaxing at the slightly familiar feeling. It was a Bellafina Prelude violin for beginners, an inexpensive option if it were to be used for only a few months. I requested another one; I wasn't familiar with it, and there was a slight chance they had others with better quality.

I glimpsed at the instrument in Ryuugamine-san's hand. The overall quality of the tonewood, chinrest, and tailpiece was better than the one next violin I held. Hers reflected a soft light, as most carefully maintained violins do. She took an open seat with a neutral expression, and I flicked the edge of my lips when our eyes met.

"I'm glad to meet another talented musician. It was a beautiful performance, Ryuugamine-san. However, music is a force that has to move both the performer and the audience likewise."

I changed places with Ryuugamine-san, resting the fine-tuned instrument on my shoulder. Starting with a crescendo, I tested the waters before going all out, and was hit with a familiar feeling of pleasure in my stomach. A number of low notes kept me from my field of expertise, and it wasn't until a few minutes later, though by then I had already lost any perception of time, that the paced picked up and I felt how the audience became alive, as if a shock of electricity had flown in the room.

I focused on my fingers as they moved around the fingerboard, trying to shut away other noises. However, I wasn't able to reach that kind of state at that moment. As creatives, couldn't keep moving forward until we broke the wall that separated us from greatness. But the challenge that comes when facing that wall was bigger than ourselves, and I hadn't overcome mine yet.

Memory after another passed through my mind as the notes and tone wavered from happy to sad. Most of them were from my parents, and I clenched my jaw, feeling a prickle in my chest whenever I thought of them.

Certainly, there was no reason for me to pursue the path of a musician. Music doesn't save people, and my love for it measured against the responsibility of inheriting the Sumire Foundation was minuscule. Perhaps if my parents were alive, they would have encouraged me to keep playing. I was glad they would never know about my last performance.

It was fun while it lasted.

In the end, by an almost unanimous vote, I was the winner. However, I wasn't with satisfied the performance. It had been months since I last played, and I made plenty of mistakes.

As I told them this, the vice-president spoke.

"You may be right, but there's something in your playing I've never seen before."

"He's right. And I hate to admit it, but you're good."

Part of me agreed with them, and the other didn't want to pursue the issue any further.

"What do you think, senpai?" I asked the two-faced girl.

She leaned back in the chair and glanced at the ceiling."Ryuu-chan performed pretty good. It was moving. I like her playing best." She then narrowed her eyes at me. "You were totally playing safe there," she declared in a venomous voice.

I was unable to answer and found it hard to look her in the eyes. The vice-president was nodding with a serious expression at the other girl that whispered to his ear, and Ryuugamine-san, with an unstable expression, had retreated to inspecting the paper, the bottom slightly crumpled.

Victory involved bearing the consequences of snatching the opponent's happiness and reducing their hard work to nothingness. Ryuugamine-san didn't think twice, but shouldering the aftershock, the feelings of frustration and grief, was too heavy for me. I hid under the shadow of a manager, where the expectations were fixed and lightweight, and the job was more of a challenge.

Soccer, although music was irreplaceable for me, was a sweet nectar that satiated my thirst for a challenge. It was a giant that stood before me. Omnipotent, unyielding, unbeatable.

For years, I wondered how could Kidou lose himself in the sport, and finally understood why. And once you understood that, there was just no turning back.

 **The View From The Ground** **| End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, my apologies for the OC-centric chapter. Surprisingly, the story will become more soccer-centered in the later chapters and at a quicker pace than I thought at first. On another topic, I'm not confident I portrayed their performances as I wanted to. So criticisms on that part would be very helpful.
> 
> I want to point out the ending of the previous draft was very different. It was supposed to end with her thought's about victory, but I'm satisfied with this.
> 
> Published: May 18th, 2017


	9. To Each Their Own Carrot

**Chapter 8 | To Each Their Own Carrot**

He was terrified of the man in front of him. The reason he had given up his dream, trampled on it like a filthy thing, stared at him through dark-tinted glasses. He had seen him from close-up about twice but this was the first they were in the same room alone, face-to-face. Despite his mind telling him to run, his feet remained planted in the red carpet. Fear had frozen him.

"You have been skipping club to observe the soccer team," the coach said in a deep voice that resonated through the dim office. He felt weak and mediocre, facts he had accepted, but the Coach went further and shoved them down his throat. He didn't answer and the man continued.

"You know it's against the rules, don't you?" His emotions must have shown on his face, for the man's words contained a hint of amusement. He nodded immediately and looked down, blonde locks covering his eyes. He gulped. It wasn't that he was being careful or ashamed of being caught red-handed. The possibility of being found and its consequences hadn't crossed his mind. No one cared enough to warn him.

"If you don't want to be punished, be useful and spy on Kidokawa Seishuu's soccer team. If you succeed and prove yourself worthy of being in my team, there will be another tryout for Teikoku's second team when you return."

It took a few seconds for the words to sink. He raised his head slowly, a dumbstruck expression on his face, and the man cracked a devilish grin.

"...Understood," the boy replied seconds later without hesitation. He would do anything to play soccer as long as it didn't taint his heart any further.

**To Each Their Own Carrot | End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Published: September 13th, 2017


	10. Peeking Behind The Bush

**Chapter 9 | Peeking Behind The Bush**

I sighed as another sting pinched my neck for the umpteenth time this week. Excusing myself as Coach Nikaidou gathered the team to brief for tomorrow's match, I walked around the bathrooms' area and other places where Gouenji's fans tend to hide.

"Ouch!" I winced, massaging my nape. It wasn't my imagination, as I wanted to believe, there was someone nearby. And whoever she or they was had found a good spot. I considered calling Coach Nikaidou for this petty issue, but I was the only one with spare time to search for needles in the hay.

I walked aimlessly for a few more minutes without results. When I was about to give up, my ears perked up at a strange rustle of leaves around the nearby bushes, tall enough for two, maybe three, crouched teens to hid in.

After a moment of hesitation, I dove in, branches cracking down my feet. I bit my lip. If there was someone here, no doubt they would have heard me and fled. But the surroundings were still, save from my own breathing and the cry of the cicadas in their full splendor.

Pushing away a thick leaf, there was a blonde boy with a pair of binoculars fixed at the direction of the soccer field. It seemed he hadn't noticed me despite the noise I made.

"Who are you?" I blurted out without meaning to.

The boy jumped with a silly scream, causing me to cover my ears, and fell on his behind with a curse.

I exhaled sharply as my violet eyes met his brown ones, deaf to the thoughts that seeped in my mind about to work in full power and focused intently on his features, for I had to remember every face I caught staring at the soccer club's practice in case they were obstinate. We gazed at each other before I asked again, with an edge for good measure, "Who are you?"

The boy looked away, his shoulders shaking, revealing a silver earring that gleamed under the soft rays.

"You are that transfer student," I said tilting my head slightly. The recent rumors of a blonde pretty boy among the second years had most girls in an uproar but I didn't bother with the name. "Why are you. . ." I trailed off, looking at the binoculars hanging around his neck and a notepad under his hand then came to a conclusion. ". . . That man sent you."

The blonde flinched as if that vague reference meant something. I stood up and left. I wasn't going to let this go.

The team had gone back to practice when I took out my cellphone from the clubroom, placing it beside my ear after typing a number I had committed to memory.

"Yuuto, can you pass a message to that man?"

....

That man, Kageyama Reiji, looked at us with an amused expression as if this event had been in his plans all along. He sat on his chair, as usual, Kidou and that boy aside, and I, the one who had called for this meeting, in the very center.

I stood with an unwavering posture, arms crossed confidently. The air was a delicate glass and the minimal sound could break it.

"Ryuugamine Kiyoshi-senpai is not fit to be a spy." It was my voice that broke the silence.

"Hm? And why are you saying this?" He taunted, challenging me to catch his interest. He didn't have time for listening to a little girl's bickering so I better make this relevant, was the meaning behind his words. Kidou was also surprised he had accepted a meeting, waiting with a hardened expression until the three of us entered the room. I wasn't sure why he was called and it seemed neither did he.

I cleared my throat and presented the case I spent a couple of days preparing in a serious tone I rarely used. It was easy to find information about Ryuugamine Kiyoshi-senpai, second year at Kidokawa Seishuu and a former Teikoku Gakuen student. After all, he was the latest news of the school. Rumors were like a virus; you couldn't stop them from spreading and it was easy to catch them.

Ryuugamine-senpai came to Kidokawa under the following premise. In order for the schools to strengthen their ties during this difficult season, the Football Frontier, the two schools had made an agreement to exchange one student chosen at random. However, the Kidokawa students didn't know who was sent to the other school. But they didn't pay any mind; it was common sense to think that he or she was from another class or building and brush away the subject. Knowing that man, it was a ruse or a carefully crafted plan. I couldn't help but admire that part of him. Maybe he even planted the flaws beforehand.

Ryuugamine-senpai was easy to find. Not only that but asking a vague question to someone who didn't have ties with that man would tilt their head questioningly. Whoever knew about Teikoku's spies would suspect him as the team who was about to have its first match; his timing was the worst possible. Sooner or later, someone else will suspect. And lastly, he stood out, not in a good way, attracting too much attention without meaning to. I did a better job concealing myself. I refrained from adding.

After I presented these facts to that man, he nodded in approval.

I heard that inhuman voice at the back of my head whispering this is the challenge I craved for. I pressed my lips shut, suppressing a grin.

This is your end, Ryuugamine-senpai.

"What do you have to say in your defense?" He asked the boy standing beside Kidou who wore his usual poker face, yet I detected dissatisfaction from the almost imperceptible twist in his lips. Ryuugamine-senpai flinched as if the words had poked him awake. He hanged his head and looked down defeatedly, messy hair hiding his eyes.

It was that moment that the anger and indignation I used as fuel disappeared without a trace, replaced by a sense of realization and later shame. But I couldn't allow being replaced. Not only my pride screamed in protest but if his knowledge of soccer surpassed mine, then Teikoku had won the match before the whistle rang. The frustrated tears of Kidokawa's soccer team was a sight I didn't want to witness. The most I could do as a manager is to protect them in the shadows. I bit my lip and apologized with an inaudible voice. It was nothing personal.

"Commander," Kidou called, "did you read his report about Fire Tornado?"

Despair washed over me and my mind froze, sinking in the sea of betrayal as Yuuto stepped up for Ryuugamine-senpai. Fire Tornado was Kidokawa's weapon. The only time Gouenji had used it apart from practice was the qualification match.

I wanted to scream in protest, but the truth slapped me in the face as that man pulled the document despite his manner saying he had read it. I scanned the document, my strength to fight seeping out of my tense muscles.

Ryuugamine-senpai's report was thorough, simple, and direct. I instinctively knew he was the type that handles things straightforwardly. And as I feared, he knew more about soccer than I.

I looked at Kidou from the corner of my eye. A spy is an ultimate liar. Ryuugamine-senpai and his tell-no-show writing were what let him being found so quickly. A solid report changed nothing.

But that man had another opinion and congratulated him for his work.

I suppressed a viscous, bubbly feeling biting my lip. It wasn't the right time to talk. Not yet.

"Why didn't report this first?" That man asked slowly, anger going in a crescendo.

"They didn't tell me," I replied instantly.

"Show me that notebook."

I did as he said, hiding the subtle trembling of my fingers under the notebook. I was balancing on a tightrope, and the tiniest mistake would be my doom.

Ryuugamine-senpai glanced at the scene with a confused expression in the same place, looking away as soon as we made eye contact.

Kidou began to skim through the pages, but this time he started from the very end and stopped after the first few pages. My heart jumped and I bit my lip hard. Never in my wildest dreams, I would have imagined my greatest ally could seem like one of my greatest enemies.

That man sat back after inspecting the drawings I made of Fire Tornado. Before I could explain, his words thundered a command we couldn't disobey, "You two will be tested. You will uncover a certain hissatsu in the hands of Kidokawa Seishuu. Kidou will be in charge of receiving your reports. Dismissed!"

**Peeking Behind The Bush | End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I enjoyed writing this chapter so much! In particular the last scene (and Kiyoshi's scream lol). Conflict is awesome XD. If you haven't seen the graphic I made for him in my artbook, then you may not know Kiyoshi is one of my favorite OCs. On another note, Tornado Legend is an original hissatu I made so you won't find it anywhere. Do let me know what you think and vote if you liked this chapter~
> 
> Published: September 30th, 2017


	11. Beware of The Eagle

**Chapter 11 | Beware of the Eagle**

Peeking from the window, the student council room was pitch black. Kiyoshi grimaced. It hadn't been long since he was called through the speakers to come to this room in the special building, or so they called it. Tapping his foot impatiently, he weighed his options: stay here and wait for a member of the council or come back in a while.

He had successfully managed to infiltrate Kidokawa Seishuu on the eve of the Football Frontier. His cover was that of a random student selected to transfer and build trust between the schools. It was probably the student council's job to overlook he was adjusting well as they handled most of the student affairs. The Coach told him he would have been ordered to join the soccer club under normal circumstances, and that's exactly what worried Kiyoshi. From the moment he accepted the offer, the situation was abnormal. Kiyoshi gritted his teeth and stomped his foot. And it was this abnormal situation led him to get caught. He had scouted the area around the field and found the perfect spot to spy the team. If he hadn't given Kidou-san the report about Fire Tornado, the Coach for sure would have failed him. He would be back to Teikoku gazing at the soccer club's practice with broken dreams. Now he was given the real mission, find the missing manuals for Tornado Legend, Kidokawa Seishu's ghost hissatsu. On top, he still had to submit weekly reports. No, he didn't have time to waste.

After giving one last bitter look through the glass, Kiyoshi huffed and began to walk away from the door. As if on cue, it blasted open. But before Kiyoshi could understand the situation, the room's darkness swallowed him whole.

"Hey, Teikoku boy," a masculine voice said as the two were enveloped in darkness, the door shutting close behind them.

Kiyoshi instinctively threw a punch in the voice's apparent direction, and it was caught with ease. The grip was tight like that of a trained athlete. Something dug into his fist's flesh, a wave of cold terror crawled deep into his body.

He screamed, his voice echoing beside it at the threat of certain death. Or worse, perpetual pain.

Between ragged pants, Kiyoshi heard a delighted chuckle beside his ear, warm breath tickling the hair on his neck.

The lights turned on. Kiyoshi shut his eyes instinctively, opening them to meet a pair of muddy eyes before looking away for his bangs to provide a safe cover. The boy was close.

Seconds passed, the boy releasing the grip from his fist without a word. There were carving marks between his knuckles.

Kiyoshi raised his head and shot the boy a cold glare, his voice flat, "What was that?"

A grin broke on the boy's face, taunting Kiyoshi to land a punch, "A greeting."

"What kind of greeting is that?!" He barked, his words quivering at the end. Who the fuck tries to scare someone to death? His heart almost stopped.

The boy chuckled, gazing down at Kiyoshi's trembling figure.

Kiyoshi growled, his teeth gritting loudly. A dull scar ached in his chest. The dust, the cold, and the tears were still lucid. It wasn't a wound time could heal. The fear was ingrained in him like second nature.

If he was caught so easily then the lack of training, among other things, had caught up with him. Deep down, his pride took a blow of letting a mere student from a public school prank him. However, he had clung to life desperately. He still wanted to live. It wouldn't let him die either way.

The boy had moved to the center of the room when Kiyoshi was getting a hold of himself and spoke casually as if nothing had happened. "I'm Kensou Saburo, treasurer of the student council. Nice to meet you, Kiyoshi."

Kiyoshi's fists unclenched, anger fading like a balloon whose air was taken out. "What. . . what are you doing here?"

But Kensou Saburo shrugged as if it wasn't a matter of importance. "More importantly, what are you doing here?" he asked with an interested gaze, "it's obviously due to Kageyama but what did you do to be sent to spy on Kidokawa?"

Kiyoshi looked away. He had no reason to answer that. He saw Kensou shrug again from the corner of his eye and a small breath escaped his lips.

"Sit down," Kensou said as he rested on the couch like it was his throne. It didn't seem like an offer. Kiyoshi tentatively obeyed, taking the couch beside him.

Giving a long look at Kensou who had propped his feet on the coffee table, Kiyoshi noticed his lean figure and deep brown hair that framed a face. His mature, dignified demeanor was that of a well-educated person.

But he was still on guard. Whoever knew of his objective and wasn't allied with the Coach couldn't be trusted.

"What are your plans?" Kensou asked.

Kiyoshi chose his words carefully. "I'm not sure yet." It wasn't a lie. He had a few options but hadn't chosen what to do.

Kensou heard him bored and Kiyoshi's eyebrow twitched.

"Join the student council." Again, Kensou wasn't offering. "You don't know what club to join either, am I right?"

". . .Uhn." Kiyoshi agreed but was reluctant to take the offer. He had to look for a club where his absence meant little and its activities were irrelevant to others. It could be a big club with many members or a laid-back club. The student council didn't meet any of those qualifications.

Kensou stood up and walked to, his demeanor taking an unexpected change. "Who do you think convinced the president to let you into the school?"

Kiyoshi tried letting his tone topple him, waiting for his next words with a frown.

"The student council knows why you are here, Kiyoshi. Did you really think they were stupid enough to not suspect a transfer student from Teikoku? How long do you think Kageyama has been doing this?" Not waiting for his reply, Kensou continued." Join the student council," his voice took a cheeky tone, "I'll help you."

"Why?! What do you get from it?" Kiyoshi said hurriedly. This was enemy territory; he had taken too long to realize. They were less than acquaintances back then.

Kensou grinned, very much like Kidou-san, but it was much more polished. "You will get the freedom to move around the school and authority. Motives shouldn't be your concern. You don't want to get caught spying behind a bush, do you?"

Kiyoshi felt his cheeks warm; the image of the little girl scaring him was still vivid in his mind. Kensou's logic made sense. His meeting with Sumire Yuu made him realize he was taking too many risks. He could use the authority of the student council to get close to the club and get much information. With their backup, it was unlikely people would suspect a transfer student was a spy for Teikoku. Instead of hiding in the shadows, he could walk in the light with ease. He wasn't tempted by the offer of power, but the ways said power would be useful to him.

"I have to refuse," he said politely. It was too good to be true. Kensou's motive was the biggest issue. And Kiyoshi doesn't want to be anyone else's tool.

Kensou's face twitched, and the hand he placed on Kiyoshi's shoulder felt dangerous. He looked down at him like an eagle about to grip his prey. "I'm not giving you an option, Kiyoshi," he said slowly. "Join the student council. Or leave the school."

A shiver shook Kiyoshi's spine. When Kensou grinned diabolically, the meaning of his statement dawned on him.

"Join the student council or your cover will be blown."

"You bastard." Kiyoshi's body shook and slapped away Kensou's hand. "What are you planning?" He met Kensou's muddy eyes. With how apathetic Kiyoshi treated others, it was almost comical he disliked the guy in less than an hour.

"Revenge," Kensou sneered, "against the most powerful figure in the soccer world."

**Beware of the Eagle | End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was it surprising? It's fun to write the antagonist POV's and it was a fresh new perspective that got me out of writer's block so I love this kid a lot. Kiyoshi didn't stomp away because he was interested in Saburo presence in Kidokawa, and the scare made him forget what he was going to do to.


	12. A Dog's Loyalty

**Chapter 12 | A Dog's Loyalty**

Kiyoshi plopped on his bed as soon as he got home, burying his face in the pillow. His body felt heavy, and a dense cloud rested on him. Tightening his jaw from the hammering headache he was suffering, he clutched his head, hot tears spilling as quiet sobs left his lips.

"I'm an idiot. I'm a fucking idiot," he said between sharp sobs.

He had become someone's tool again.

He shouldn't have believed the Coach. Kiyoshi readily accepted everything would be prepared for him and that being his tool was a vital step to get into Teikoku's team. That was _okay_ because he was nothing without soccer. He _needed_ the extra help.

But being Kensou's tool was different. Kiyoshi could already see it: Absolute obedience, worthless opinions, insults, submission. It was rinse and repeat. He couldn't get away from this fate.

He should give up already. He couldn't stand the cycle. He just wanted to play soccer. Why was it so hard?

No, he already knew the answer. He deserved this. After all he had done... it was his punishment.

It was his fault. Yes, everything was his fault.

.....

"So," his friend said, sitting on top of the slide. "The girl whom you were supposed to take the job from found you."

"Y-Yeah," Kiyoshi grumbled, "Basically that."

The boy muffled a laugh, looking away with a stiff expression and a faint curving in his lips as if he was holding in a yawn.

"D-Don't laugh, Keima!" Kiyoshi glowered, cheeks painted with a growing blush, "She jumped at me from behind while I was focused on watching their practice!"

And on top of it, she had to be a girl. Even if she was rich, it was embarrassing how he was paralyzed with terror.

"Sorry, sorry." Keima waved a hand, then zoomed down the slide.

Kiyoshi jumped, backing away as Keima slid to him at high speed and stood up. "At least it was that girl, Sumire Yuu, right? If someone else had found you, it would have been harder to make up an excuse," Keima said, dusting off his pants.

Kiyoshi shrugged and walked to the bench, crouching beside a calico cat nibbling on a treat. "Have you heard of that hissatsu?" he said while petting the cat's head.

"Tornado Legend?" Keima asked, "Not at all. I'll ask around though. Triple hissatsus are rare."

Kiyoshi snapped his head back to Keima, steadying his posture. "No! If people suddenly start talking about it, the Coach will know it was me," he warned. He wouldn't forgive himself if Keima got hurt because of him. Being around him was dangerous enough, but he couldn't push Keima away again.

"Okay." Keima nodded seriously. "I'll search on my own."

Kiyoshi stood up in a haste. "Keima, no!" he yelled. "This was the mission I was given. I can't let you do my job."

"Then how can I help?" Keima protested, brows furrowing. "There must be something."

Kiyoshi thought for a moment. "You are fine this way," he said quietly, gazing at the ground.

"Kiyoshi, I want to help you." Kiyoshi looked at his friend between the top of his glasses and cap as Keima clenched his fists. It wasn't like him to sound that desperate. A vague nostalgia lifted his guard, unconsciously narrowing his eyes. It had been just a year, but it seems to be enough for Kiyoshi to forget some of Keima's mannerisms, save from his soccer style.

"Kei," Kiyoshi said softly, "you are doing enough." He cracked a small smile to reassure him, confirming his feeling of gratefulness beforehand. "I'm glad you are worried about me. Really."

Honestly, one person who worried about his well-being meant the world. If he were truly alone, he would give up on the mission after the first day at Kidokawa. Kiyoshi needed a friend to lean on and talk to, and having Keima around made him happy. Happier than he had been for the past year.

Nevertheless, Kiyoshi was satisfied his current pure self: he didn't lie to himself, didn't force himself to do things he didn't want to, didn't plaster fake smiles to get along with his classmates. And Keima accepted his perspective, his desire to stay pure until the end.

Keima's shoulders relaxed, also bringing a sense of relief on Kiyoshi. His body recognized the anxiety the situation brought, but his mind hadn't caught up yet.

 _What was putting Keima on edge?_ He should know. But he couldn't put it into words.

". . . Ok." Keima's jade green eyes flickered with sadness, their usual luster returning a moment later. "Tell me when you need help, okay?" He smiled.

"Thank you, really," Kiyoshi replied with a small, sincere smile. Keima was keeping his promise. Kiyoshi appreciated the space his friend was giving him to work at his own pace.

". . . There is something else." Kiyoshi continued after refilling the plate for the other cat. He gave Keima a look, hoping his body language and tone conveyed it was bad news.

He spoke after receiving Keima's concerned reply. Kiyoshi told him about Kensou, the fact that he had joined the student council as his assistant, and that Kensou wanted to use him. When Kiyoshi asked Kidou-san if he knew about the guy's whereabouts, he answered they were unknown after confirming with the Coach. So Kensou was acting alone, and they didn't know he was attending Kidokawa.

Kiyoshi sat on the bench and pulled his knees up, burying his face in his legs. His luck was terrible.

"I don't want to be used anymore," he said wistfully.

He had enough as a replacement for Keima back then, his hysterical mother, and now he was trapped in the eagle's nest.

"Kiyoshi. . ." Keima trailed off, "You want to be a pro, don't you?! This is nothing. You passed Teikoku's entrance exam for that, right? You studied like crazy to get a scholarship. Is this really harder than everything you have already gone through?"

Keima's last words made Kiyoshi tremble.

Kiyoshi lifted his face, chin downwards. "N-No matter h-how hard I try, I always end up being used. It has nothing to do with Teikoku or the mission. . . It's like a cycle I c-can't run away from." Kiyoshi's voice lowered to a whisper as if admitting defeat. "First the Coach and now Kensou."

"So what?" Keima declared. "Is that really more important than your dream? You can't let this bring you down."

Kiyoshi felt as if a bomb exploded in his stomach. He pushed himself off the bench, eyes blazing and clenched fists ready to punch. "Mother was happy I quit soccer so I could focus on my studies! You know how painful her criticism is! You have seen it before! I don't want to be used because I don't be a tool! I hate it!" Kiyoshi shouted, coughing immediately after. This stupid idiot's habit of ignoring things never failed to piss him off.

"You are right. I know all that. I'm sorry," Keima's voice quivered apologetically.

Kiyoshi heard meowing in the distance, followed by a soft brush against his thigh.

The calico cat gazed at him with worried, yellow eyes. Then the black cat with white mittens he was waiting for appeared beside it, brushing its furry head against his leg.

". . . I don't know what's going on with me," Keima said in a small voice.

Kiyoshi frowned. "I hate to be used by selfish people who only think of themselves." His voice was firm and spiteful.

". . . I'm so sorry," Keima trembled. "You know at that time I wasn't. . ."

Kiyoshi sat back, ignoring Keima's words.

The calico jumped on his thighs, propping its legs on Kiyoshi's chest to lick his nose; its soothing purr was comforting. The black cat nudged its head against his arm, taking his sleeve after meowing in a gesture to play.

Kiyoshi chuckled softly. Those two never failed to cheer him up. They were special to him. Just like this abandoned park. It was his secret place. He rarely bumped into other people.

"Have you thought of what I could do for you? I would really do anything," Keima said cautiously.

Kiyoshi lifted his eyes, having Keima on the corner of his sight. ". . . I haven't decided. Sorry."

Keima waved his hand breezily. "It's fine. Tell me when you know."

Kiyoshi exhaled slowly, his mind cooling down in the process. It wasn't Keima's intention to sound apathetic. Just like most of the time he sounded rude, sometimes Keima sounded indifferent. This time it just really got under his skin.

He lifted his head. "I want to fulfill our promise to fix our relationship."

Keima smiled lightly. "Me too."

That's when it finally clicked.

The month before summer vacation Keima becomes irritable, emotional, and a mess. Even if Kiyoshi was Kin's replacement, that didn't help Keima at all. It had been his duty since Keima confessed his problem. He just didn't imagine it would fall in this exact month.

Kiyoshi hesitated, slightly embarrassed at the words that were floating in his mind. He should say it for the sake of their friendship, Keima's loyalty, and himself. "H-hey, Ke-Kei. . . . L-let me protect you. As thanks for w-what you have d-done for me."

Keima blushed, retreating a few steps until he bumped against the slide. "Wa-Wait?! I already owe you. I can't let you do that!"

Kiyoshi chuckled, a warm flutter expanded in his body, and walked to him. He gave Keima a sweet smile, a gesture he proudly showed off to the ones he held dear enhanced by his looks. "I remembered. It's _that_ month, isn't it? You can use my shoulder."

Keima shook his head furiously. "You are already going through so much! I can't let you bear this too!"

Kiyoshi cocked his head, giving off a mischievous smile. "Kei, you know I wouldn't be saying this if I wasn't sure could handle it."

Keima raised a skeptic eyebrow. "Are you really sure?" Kiyoshi could tell his friend was trying to accept help and was confirming if Kiyoshi could truly do so.

"Yup!" he answered cheerily without hesitation.

"Okay. . ." Keima looked between Kiyoshi and a random point. "Just for this month."

**A Dog's Loyalty | End**


	13. What Is Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember Yuu's maid in one of the early chapters? Her name has been changed to Higashi.

**Chapter** **12** **|  What is Lost**

"Yes." I sighed as I laid on the couch. "That man made a fool of us."

"I would have never thought it would become like this. Everything seemed. . . okay," Higashi-san said, gazing at her hands.

"Even Yuuto was dumbfounded." With a groan, I reminisced about the aftermath of the meeting.

After we had been dismissed from that man's office, I hesitated to approach Kidou who seemed to be lost in thought. Swallowing the embarrassment, I trudged.

"Did you know about that?" I asked with a mixture of disbelief and defeat. My objective had been overturned after all.

Kidou frowned and shook his head slowly. "I knew about Ryuugamine being transferred to Kidokawa and investigating Fire Tornado, not about that hissatsu."

"Tornado Legend. . ?" I said, testing the foreign words in my mouth. "I can't believe it is related to Fire Tornado and Dark Tornado."

"It was used during one of the matches between Kidokawa and Teikoku years ago. Teikoku almost lost." Kidou gazed at Ryuugamine-senpai's leaving figure, his expression stoic.

My jaw tightened. Following my hand moving to Kidou's sleeve, it craved to pull it and wrap my arms around his.

I shook my head and looked away. "So, it is a threat." I crossed my arms and smiled wryly. "The best way to eliminate a threat is subduing it. That's something he would do." I turned to the door we just left and told myself in a slow mumble, "Efficient and immoral."

Kidou returned his gaze and agreed thoughtfully, unaware of my last words.

I tilted my head. "Is there something bothering you?" I glanced down for a second and clasped my arm. "Um, I don't think that man doesn't trust you. I believe it's because he thought you might mention it to me." I giggled. "You are extremely curious after all."

"Yeah." Kidou smiled painfully as if trying to brush his worry off.

After making sure Ryuugamine-senpai was out of sight, I clasped his hand, massaging the back with my thumb. "You won't be thrown away that easily, Yuuto. Your talents can't be replaced. You yourself can't be replaced."

His muscles slowly relaxed as I spoke and I noticed I was holding my breath.

I smiled at this familiar tension. "You are still a child, Yuuto."

We headed home, and I stopped Higashi-san from leaving when she brought a cup of tea.

Still on the couch, I shifted the other way and hugged one of the pillows. "I had to tell Yuuto why I chose to betray that man." My gaze lowered for a moment to the beige rug. "He had the right to know."

"To. . ." Higashi-san pondered, "prove your worth to the partners of the Sumire Foundation, was it?"

I flinched, feeling the blood rushing to my face. "Y-yes, basically. " Pushing myself to a sitting position, I pressed the pillow against my body. "I disappointed everyone by not taking over my parent's position, by not doing anything. I hurt them. It's unforgivable. It wasn't uncommon in other eras for children to take over an empire or an organization. Like Tutankhamon . . . they accomplished great things at their young age." I mumbled, "Or is it because we live in modern times?"

Higashi-san laughed dryly as if lost. "It's been two years. I wouldn't have been able to heal in such a short time."

I dug my nails deeper into the pillow.

". . ."

I could still see the sadness in Tsukichi-san's eyes when she said she was leaving the school. The Sumire Foundation, my parents, were supporting her family. But that man wasn't known for being merciful.

But the worst was--

"Kidou-sama and I aren't blaming you." Higashi-san's kind words hauled me back from the rising darkness.

I nodded and looked around before burying my face on the pillow. "I'm sorry, Tsukichi-san. I betrayed my best friend. But I will assume responsibility. I won't let that man toy with the Sumire Foundation anymore." My voice shook. "It was my fault you became like that."

⚽️⚽️

The following morning began as usual. I slept early, so my body could feel lighter and my sight stayed sharp. I could almost believe yesterday didn't happen.

Humming on the way to the field, I noticed the commotion in front of the clubroom. The team should have been preparing for practice.

The hairs on my neck stood up. I picked up the pace.

"Gouenji-kun, what happened?!" I asked between breaths. His downcast expression only confirmed this ugly feeling.

"Fire Tornado's manual was taken," he said dejectedly.

"WHAT?! That's impossible! I locked-"

"Unless it was you who took it," the oldest Mukata-senpai said, approaching with menacing steps. The other two were behind him.

"I would never-!"

"Where's the evidence, like--"

"Let me finish!" I yelled. My heart pounded on my ears,the rapid tempo swallowing their shrills.

I heard Mukata-senpai flinch and step back, but I shunned it. Simultaneously, I felt a hand on my shoulder and silvery voice.

"No one is accusing you, Sumire."

I gasped and flicked my head to the voice, the afterimage of Higashi-san's figure flashing through my eyes. Staring into Gouenji's maroon eyes, I felt embarrassed about losing my cool so quickly, but most of all that his words soothed me.

This isn't how the doll of the Sumire Foundation should behave, the darkness said.

I moved away in haste, Gouenji-kun's hand slipping off. "I know. I know."

Looking at the rest of the team's faces, their anxiety and despair urged me to fix this. The Coach was speaking with the seniors, only the first years, Tobiyama-kun, Yakata-kun, and Mogi-kun noticed the ruckus.

"Everyone." I raised my voice, continuing after having their attention. "Captain managed to perfect the technique. I believe there isn't much to worry now." I smiled.

"But what if they use it to counter Fire Tornado? We don't have anything else!" Tobiyama-kun said.

"Then everyone has to support the captain." I clapped and looked at Coach Nikaidou. "Surely there is more than Fire Tornado in the soccer team's repertoire, right?"

The Coach agreed. "Yeah, the previous soccer teams designed other hissatsu." He scratched his head. "I was going inform you with the new training regime but plans changed. Starting today, some of you will be learning a hissatsu."

The team erupted with muttering and excitement, the previous glom dissipating like clearing fog.

"But." Another Mukata protested among the cheers. "If they took Fire Tornado, wouldn't they do the same with the other techniques?"

Everyone glanced at each other quietly. I narrowed my eyes.

"And. . ." his tone rose dangerously, "We don't know who took it, right, Sumire-san?"

I growled quietly. "What makes you think I took it?"

He grinned. "You were the last to leave. Is it like, obvious?"

I stepped forward. "If it's that obvious, anyone would have used a better method."

There was silence. The team members were looking and whispering at each other, unsure whom to believe.

"Fine." I flailed my arms, expressing my frustration. "If it helps everyone focus on the tournament. I want to know who took it as well."

I heard a "he" from the triplets and rolled my eyes.

"Sumire--"

Ignoring Gouenji's call, I lifted up my hand. "Coach," I began, a smile peeking my face. "Can I look around the school after setting up for practice?"

He nodded. "Thanks, Sumire-san. That's reassuring. Start afterschool, I want everyone present for the overview of the new training regime."

I hummed in acknowledgment, hiding the murderous intent towards the possible thief and my victory.

⚽️⚽️

I knocked on the door to the student council. Having the coach's permission, I could move anywhere without receiving suspicious attention. There was more than one reason to prove my innocence to the team.

"Though in the end, I took advantage of their moment of weakness." I chuckled dryly. "Some dedicated manager I am."

A male's voice said to come in, and I pushed the door open. "Excuse me."

There were two people in the room, a brown-haired third year, Kensou Saburo-senpai, and the fool who had dug his own grave. The room was neat and organized, save from the papers over the coffee table between the two.

Kensou-senpai looked up from his laptop with a lazy smirk, "What can I help you with, Sumire-san?" he asked nonchalantly.

The first time I entered the student council, I easily recognized him and introduced myself. His older siblings and parents were successful in their respective fields and his looks were proportional to his popularity, though that didn't matter. It was his personality that put me on my toes. He was a cruel and selfish person who didn't think twice about using others. I had stayed at a distance so far, scared he might found out I was a spy.

"I would like to speak with Ryuugamine-senpai," I said without looking at him. The idiot was either ignoring me or hadn't acknowledged my existence as he kept working on his laptop.

"Ryuugamine, your girlfriend is pissed," he called amused.

"I-I'm not his girlfriend!" I protested, the tension slipping away from my shoulders.

"Hm?" Ryuugamine-senpai said and lifted his head, our eyes meeting again. "What the f-?!" He yelped, probably because I looked utterly pissed, holding his laptop as it was about to slip off his knees.

Looking at Ryuugamine-senpai with a grin, Kensou-senpai stood up. "I'll be back in a while." And walked out.

I glanced at him suspiciously. He was tougher than Senbayama's Invincible Wall. Trying to get information was foolish. I brushed my arm, calming the chills.

Another idea surfaced, but it was unlikely, so I shook it off. I trodded behind the sofa Kensou-senpai was sitting, speaking after checking his footsteps had faded far into the hallway. "I know it's part of the mission to give him the manual, but if I am found then you are going down with me."

Ryuugamine-senpai looked at me as if I was about to kill him. My eyes narrowed, savoring the idea. His every little action fueled my anger: his meek attitude, his foul language, his passivity. I felt like stinging him.

"Wha-what are you talking about?" he asked.

I placed my hands on the couch's backrest. "Fire Tornado's manual was stolen. The team suspects me, but I know it was you."

"It was stolen?!" he exclaimed, then his tone turned serious, "It wasn't me."

"No one in the school but us would want to take it. If it wasn't me, then it must be you. I asked Kidou-kun to confirm. The only ones working for that man is us."

Ryuugamine-senpai looked down, thoughtful. Eventually, he replied, "I-I don't know. Bu-but I didn't."

I felt my teeth clench. "Why should I believe you?"

"I'm just telling the truth." He scowled before looking away. "You don't have to believe me."

I let out a long sigh and shook my head, then gazed at him apologetically. "No, I do. Our goal is the same. It would be less than helpful if I didn't believe you."

He didn't respond. He seemed to be thinking about something.

"Anyway," I said, pulling back. "We have an issue in our hands."

He gave me a sideway glance. "That's none of my business."

I giggled mockingly, placing a finger under my chin. "Didn't I say it before? We fall together. I have no intention of letting you win this way."

It was as if I had struck a nerve. His expression hardened, eyes flaring with raw hatred. "You bitch," he said between his teeth.

I felt my eyebrow twitching. "Mou, that means we have to protect each other's back. I don't think you wouldn't expose me if you were found. So it is fair." I crossed my arms and shifted my weight to one leg.

He quickly deflated and deepened his grimace. ". . . You aren't wrong."

"I'll make sure you aren't found. I want to work together with you." I smiled, extending my hand. "Unity makes strength. Let's work together, Ryuugamine-senpai. That man didn't say we couldn't."

He stared at it with a conflicted expression, then shook his head sadly. "No. . ."

". . . I see." I retracted my hand slowly for an effect. "So that's how you want to do things."

"There's no way I can believe in you. It's nothing personal." He looked down meekly, his words heavy. He seemed exhausted and miserable. A drop of guilt fell onto the deep ocean in my heart.

I gazed at my hand. "Your rejection doesn't mean I won't cover you. That's one thing I want you to be clear."

He nodded.

I left the room, pondering about the other person I had to see as soon as possible. "Ryuugamine-senpai. . . -san . . . huh?" I hummed and chuckled. "There is no way they aren't related."

⚽️⚽️

I took the chance to return the violin to the music club. Bowing as I stood on the threshold, I noticed a blonde girl walking in the hallway.

"Ah, Ryuugamine-san!" I said cheerfully. "I was looking for you!"

She stopped abruptly with a hint of surprise. The tension from her body hadn't faded from the three times we have spoken, except when she requested for a challenge in the room I just left.

"I already said this. . ." I began, "but your words the other day helped me more than I can be expressed." I gave her one of my best smiles. "Thank you very much."

I bowed politely. When I lifted my head, I saw Ryuugamine-san's baffled expression. I giggled, thinking how cute it was.

"That's good. . ." she replied.

I held a chuckle from her nonsensical answer and waved my hand lightly. "It's alright. I don't expect you to understand and I can't explain it."

She gave another nod, now hesitant.

"And another thing. . ." I trailed off, linking my fingers. "I am sure you are tired of being asked this."

Her expression immediately turned stern, quietly waiting for what was to come.

Nevertheless, I pushed forward.

"Is it true? Is Ryuugamine-senpai--"

"I don't have a brother. I'm an only child," she answered without hesitation, glaring at me. Her eyes held a force similar to Ryuugamine-senpai's blazing orbs, but I wasn't the target of her hatred.

I stood there as she left, speechless, staring at the end of the empty hallway. For the first time, I wasn't sure what to believe.

 

**What Is Lost | End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's here! What did you guys think? Please tell me in the comments X3.
> 
> I'm surprised it became this long, almost 2500 words! Writing the last scene was really hard! What do you think about Miyuki and Yuu's relationship and how would you describe it? We'll be overlooking their development together XD.
> 
> Who do you think took Fire Tornado's manual? I don't think Yuu is actually worried about that, she has so many things to think about yet she can't waste a single second. If Kiyoshi is single-mindedly pursuing his goal, then Yuu is slowly opening her eyes and seeing the full picture. One of the few things that were kept from her narrative seems she doesn't fully show her next steps and train of thought.
> 
> The troubles are just starting! Next chapter, more annoyances befall Kiyoshi! Feedback is always welcome :D


	14. Circus Seal

**Chapter** **13** **| Circus Seal**

Kiyoshi's body fell on the couch as the girl closed the door with a dull thud.

"You have to be kidding me. There can't be a third player," he said, the words barely slipping between his lips.

He hid his face with his hands. His first target was gone. He had already considered he was at a disadvantage because the girl could take it at any moment, but this was worse. Her being suspected had nothing to do with him, but the manual had to be found. This isn't how he thought things would be.

There was little chance he could find it while not raising suspicions; he should focus in Back Tornado's manual instead.

His muscles relaxed a little when he decided, but he could still feel the strain. He was clenching his fists too hard, his nails leaving marks on his palms.

"But where to start?" he asked himself in an effort to focus; the loss was distressing. He considered asking Kensou but was reluctant. That jerk hadn't done anything yet, but if he was capable of scaring him like when they met, then he didn't want to get involved in his plans or him.

Kiyoshi jumped at the sound of the rattling door, his thoughts coming to a halt.

Kensou entered with a self-satisfied grin, making Kiyoshi grimace in disgust and imagine the worst that could put this jerk in a good mood. "What did she want?" he asked pleasantly, making his way deeper into the office as if he already knew the answer.

He hesitated, staring at Kensou wordlessly. Everything the guy said that was outside his duties as the treasurer put him on his toes.

"What did she want?" He repeated, barely able to contain his excitement as his smirk stretched and leaned on the vice-president's desk.

Kiyoshi raised an eyebrow. "You. . . seem to know already. It's creepy."

_You have to be kidding me._

Kensou chuckled and took out a notebook from the drawer then flung it to Kiyoshi, grasping it swiftly. "That has to be worth something. It was a lot of trouble convincing the teacher to stay quiet," he said as Kiyoshi scanned the contents.

"Seriously?" Kiyoshi chuckled dryly, the words having flown over his head. "It's crazy."

Manual gone. The girl is suspected. It falls on Kiyoshi's hands. He gives it to the Coach. First round, his win. Was something terrible going to happen? Heck, Kiyoshi wouldn't mind if it did.

"This is great." He grinned, shrieking as the notebook was snatched from his hands.

Kensou gave him a half-smile, the stolen manual tapping his shoulder.

"Gi-give it back!" Kiyoshi screamed as he stood up, glaring at Kensou.

"I never said I was going to give this for free." The manual changed Kensou's hands and he plopped his ass on the sofa.

Kiyoshi growled, but this jerk wasn't intimidated at all. "What do you want?"

"Your mission, what is it?" The guy rested his arms on the backrest, the manual hanging in his hand.

Kiyoshi puffed through his nose. "Give it to me and I'll tell you," he glowered. He wasn't good at negotiations, but he tried.

Kensou smiled smugly. "Don't even think of running with it to the door. I'm faster."

That was a good idea. But this jerk would make him spill the truth by force if he did that. Kiyoshi had a better one. He glanced at Kensou and pounced as fast as he could at the notebook when he seemed to be unguarded.

The notebook swiftly disappeared from his hand, flying towards the wall behind the couch.

Kiyoshi stepped on the furniture and propelled himself towards it before his vision flicked to the ceiling. Under the white light, it took him a moment to realize he was falling. The red oni roared, urging Kiyoshi to do something. But even if his brain realized the danger, his body was too slow to react but a short yelp. His back slammed against the floor, an arm burying deep against his stomach. Coughing as the air was sucked out of him, acid began rising to his mouth; Kiyoshi swallowed it down.

Kensou's face at the bottom of his sight had a victorious grin, and the back of the sofa loomed at his left. "You don't have brothers, do you?" he asked.

 _"As. . . if. . . I can answer!"_ Kiyoshi wanted to yell, his throat burning from the mixture of acid and air. The manual had fallen at his side, but he didn't have the energy to move.

Eventually, Kensou picked it and dusted it off.

"What's your mission?" he questioned again before looking back and smirking at Kiyoshi.

Sprawled on the floor, Kiyoshi lifted his head gave him the finger, a replacement of _"fuck you_." He didn't have to suplex him. The bastard. But the gesture only made Kensou more amused. "You can tell me after you can talk."

Kiyoshi groaned loudly in protest, promptly coughing violently. Later, he begrudgingly told Kensou about his mission, snatched the manual off his hand, and stormed out of the room after telling him to go to hell.

He was on his way to print copies of the manual before giving it back to the soccer club, part of one of his original ideas. It's absence had created too much trouble, and he didn't have to give the Coach the original. Kiyoshi grinned. Plus, it would be fun to see Kensou's face when he told him the manual was back in the team's hands. As puny as his struggles were, going against that jerk meant he was his own person, not a tool.

Rubbing his belly where Kensou's arm plunged, Kiyoshi stopped abruptly and took out his cellphone, pulling the screen with the messages between him and Keima. They had been exchanging pictures every so often as a way of supporting each other, but now Keima hardly had the strength to back him up. From Kiyoshi, he kept sending pictures, mostly calming nature pictures taken the past year. They helped him a lot. The latest one had two snow bunnies side on white fluffy snow, although the bigger one seemed to be crying.

It was earlier than usual, but Kiyoshi wasn't sure if he would have time later. He would tell Kidou-san he got the manual and might want to meet that same day. That would be nice.

He typed a message with a sad, worried expression.

_"How was your day?"_

He had been asking Keima the same question every day since they went to the park and got real answers: he wasn't okay. Recently, Keima was having nightmares about Kin and was blaming himself for what happened. The more they texted, the more Kiyoshi remembered how much his friend had suffered.

Kiyoshi's lips trembled, tears at the corner of his eyes as he reminisced about Keima's self-depreciating texts. If Keima had to suffer because he was selfish, then Kiyoshi should be suffering more. He couldn't forgive he was covering his selfishness with kindness.

_"It hurts but it's okay! I hate seeing you like this but I was the one who told you can depend on me. I'll accept that pain."_

It was a fact the red oni helped Kiyoshi stand the emotional strain. However, it was Keima's loving and grateful gaze after getting a hold of himself that filled it. The red oni was hungry for intimacy, and it made Kiyoshi warm; it was becoming his drug. He wanted to be showered in Keima's love. The little he could muster that the moment.

"Being by his side is the only thing I can do for him," he said, voice wavering. "Keima needs me." Kiyoshi cleaned his eyes, sobbing. "I'm sorry for being selfish. I have to feed it. . . I don't want to suffer."

If the red oni wanted love, then what did Kin--the blue oni according to Keima--wanted? The only thing Keima would tell him is that his death was his fault, and he didn't deserve to have a future.

Originally, the blue oni was the one who helped the red oni get along with the humans; Keima fits as the blue oni in that aspect. To Kiyoshi, Kin seemed more like the dead girl in Summer, Fireworks, And My Corpse: a corpse one step away from him than an actual oni. They had been compared countless times, but to Kiyoshi, he was a shadow. He couldn't touch it nor understand it. He was just there. If Kiyoshi could understand Kin, maybe he could help Keima.

"Ah, Senpai!"

Kiyoshi jolted at the sound of a female voice coming from the stairs and blinked rapidly. A girl with thick pink braids and purple hair waved as she climbed.

He backed away a few steps and looked around. The hallway was empty.

"I finally found you!" the girl said loudly as she reached the last step.

Kiyoshi looked away as he noticed a sweet smell mixed with sweat and slapped himself mentally. Another headache mildly throbbed.

"Let me interview you!" The girl quickly approached, closing in the distance between their bodies.

He backed away further in haste, the girl pressing on until being a breath away. It smelled like fried chicken with spicy sauce.

"No," Kiyoshi stammered with utter confusion. Questions raced in his mind, but the girl acted too quickly for him to collect himself.

"It will be an hour of your time!" She bounced forward and he stepped back, her excitement unshaken after a clear rejection.

Kiyoshi's eye twitched, and he twisted his face to meanest expression he could muster. "I don't want to," he stated quieter than he intended.

"Please! Your fans really want this interview!" she insisted with a smile.

There was something increasingly annoying about this girl. Maybe her funky appearance, her scratchy voice, or her persistent request. Or everything.

"That's none of my business." He took another step back and hit the wall. Kiyoshi grimaced. He had no interested in pleasing those stupid girls.

The girl suddenly retreated and swished her hand as if she was presenting something. "Mysterious transfer student! What could be hiding behind those impeccable grades and pretty face?" she announced confidently, her thick glasses glinting under the sun. "What do you think?"

"What the hell? I don't have time for this." He stepped aside and walked past the girl.

"Wait, Ryuugamine-senpai! You are the hot topic of the school! I have to write about you!" she cried.

Kiyoshi's body went cold as he felt a pair of arms wrap around his.

"Don't touch me!" He pushed the girl away and hugged his arm, trying to calm his trembling body. "I-I don't care about an interview or those girls! Get away from me! Don't touch me with your dirty hands you-- disgusting woman!" Kiyoshi ran down the stairs, jumping every few steps.

Pressing his heels against the floor as a brake, he placed his hands against the wall he was about to crash onto. He ignored the students' yelp and tried to regain his breath, fixing his glasses.

"Ugh. Ew." Kiyoshi said shakily and rubbed his arm, trying to wear down the feeling. He will have to wash his jacket.

"That scared me. It's the transfer student."

"So cool~! Do you think he has a girlfriend?"

"Tch, I don't know. Ask him yourself."

"Eh~? No~. He's scary~."

Kiyoshi glanced at the students, grimaced, and entered his destination. The printer was close to the door, and there were only a couple of students around.

"Senpai!"

"Holy shit!" Kiyoshi's body shook to the core, and he took a fighting stance at the voice.

The girl stared at him confusedly, her pullover a little disheveled from the push. "Eh? Do want to fight?" She grinned widely. "I don't recommend it."

Kiyoshi looked down, noticing his stupid pose. Quickly retracting his arms, he placed the open notebook on the glass.

"Making copies of your class notes? I thought you didn't have any friends," the girl commented.

Kiyoshi grunted, hand falling to his side after hovering over the Print button. "It's none of your business."

The girl didn't move. Kiyoshi glared and the girl grinned back, her eyes flashing as if she understood something.

"Ah, it's _that_!" She took a step back, gesturing with her hand as she turned away. "Go ahead."

Kiyoshi's face went red. "Of-of course not! What the-the hell are you thinking?!"

Seriously, everyone in this school was idiots, and girls were the worst.

He pressed the button, moving his body between the girl and the printer's mouth.

"I haven't introduced myself!" she screamed, making Kiyoshi jump again. "Akasaka Megumi, first year, member of the Newspaper Club." She introduced herself with a loose military pose. She was so weird.

Kiyoshi looked away from her expectant gaze. "You already know who I am."

"Right." She laughed. "When can I interview you? The column goes out in a week so there isn't much time."

⚽️⚽️

Kiyoshi's patience was growing thin. He refused the interview enough times he considered beating her up to regain his daily peace. She had pestered him in the student council room, as he left the school, and came between breaks to his class the following day.

He brought her outside the classroom as she asked for him during the third time.

"I told you I don't give a damn about it!"

Even if this girl was a talent from the Newspaper Club, everyone hated her pestering attitude despite writing popular articles. She was like a circus seal, answering people's demands for mockery and fake praise.

"I have to write this interview no matter what! Everyone wants it!" she said with excitement.

Kiyoshi threw his fist to the wall, shutting up the girl and the whole hallway. She didn't flinch but looked a bit worried.

He hung his head low. After talking to Kensou about the Newspaper Club, he was debating whether he should use her. He had been mildly refusing her request until he set his mind.

Frustration seeping from his tone, he replied flatly. "I want to check the Newspaper Club's archive."

She was serious. She wanted to please her readers. Just like he wanted to please his classmates when he was little. And in the end, it was useless.

Her face broke into a victorious half-smile and raised her hand for a handshake. "The archives will be open for you."

Kiyoshi looked at her hand with dull eyes. "I'll tell you when I have time to spare for that thing." He walked back to the classroom, leaving the girl's hand in the air without looking back.

 ****Circus Seal** ** **|** **End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray! Another update! The process chapter a little weird tbh. After the previous update, I got a lot of nice comments from Isha I got inspired to write the next one. I edited it and thought it was nice, but something was bugging me. A couple of days later I realized Kiyoshi was very OOC. Happy OOC. Nevah! So I did what I had to and began a massive editing, and after more than four hours I was so not done. Last resort was copying the chapter back to my main writing app and starting from square one.
> 
> In other words, what you are reading now is the fourth draft! For some reason, I want to publish the first one as an extra. Happy Kiyoshi is just so. . . funny in many ways. I'll let you guys put the rest together.
> 
> If you don't know why Kiyoshi hold such animosity towards females, check out K A T H A R O S in my profile. It's a Kiyoshi-centered short story and EAL's prequel. You will find a lot of info about him, Keima, and their personal and mutual struggles.
> 
> I hope this chapter gave a lot of answers. I actually wasn't expecting the red oni to be very active this fast, but Keima's relationship with Kiyoshi raises a sense fo familiarity on it.
> 
> One important thing that wasn't mentioned was why Kensou took the manual. Simply, it was a coincidence and good luck. He knew Kiyoshi was observing Fire Tornado and thought he was still on it, so the manual would help him out a lot.
> 
> Claps to me for doing the last tweaks while on a road trip. It's six a.m !


	15. A Look Into The Origins

**Chapter** **14 | A Look Into The Origins**

I stared solemnly into the void's empty eyes, its darkness surrounding me. This time, I stood firm, for there was nothing to fear.

"I understand. I know why I was so afraid of you. I didn't want to accept the fact that I was empty; that, no matter what, I couldn't feel the same way as before." I stared at my hands, cold, pale palms that held nothing. "My past self was swallowed in this place, and there is no trace of it left. The dead can't come back to life."

I took a deep breath and giggled dryly. "Well, what can I do now but accept it? A doll will keep moving even without its master as long as it has their will. If I can't do anything to change the past, I just have to keep moving forward and save what can be salvaged from the ruins."

Static filled my senses, prickling my skin and stinging my ears. I kept smiling. "Mn, I can't compare to the real thing, the real Sumire Yuu, but I can only try. What else do I have to live for after all?"

The silent world dissolved from dirty black to pure white in a dying hiss. I clasped my fingers behind my back and placed a foot behind the other. "It doesn't matter if I am a lie. No one is keeping tabs, and pity is something she never received."

⚽️⚽️

"Yakata-kun, expand your field of vision. Kurobe-senpai is free!" I yelled, smiling as Yakata-kun passed the ball and decided to back down to support the defense when Gouenji passed through the opposing side of the field. "Good."

"They are improving day by day, these boys," Coach Nikaidou commented.

I agreed. "Learning hissatsus improved their morale. Now, they are more than willing to win." I stopped as Gouenji performed Fire Tornado, scoring the third goal. "If only the Mukata triplets accepted to work with the rest of the team, Goeunji-kun wouldn't have to bear the center of the attack formation alone."

Said trio was bickering at their teammates for allowing another point, not even a practice match easing their pride. I hummed. "If something were to happen to Gouenji-kun, we wouldn't have many chances, especially against Teikoku."

"I believe in Gouenji-kun. He is doing what he can as captain," the Coach replied with absolute confidence.

Turning back to the field, I erased all traces of emotion from my face. "If that is your wish. I will keep supporting Gouenji-kun. The burden of leading a whole group is not easy to bear."

After carrying out some chores, I continued to observe, giving encouragement and comments from time to time.

Eventually, the Coach mentioned Fire Tornado's manual. I flinched and giggled dryly. "Yes, it seems we panicked for nothing. Good thing it was merely displaced." I made an imperceptible sigh, placing my hand over my forehead. I had to work twice as hard to get the remaining manual.

"That reminds me," I started, hand falling to my side, "I was reviewing the documents in the clubroom for something that might help us, and I noticed the name of a certain hissatsu."

The Coach lowered his eyes to meet mine. I frowned for a swift moment before he replied. "Which hissatsu?"

"Tornado Legend. It is a name I have never heard about. Why aren't they learning it?" Holding my breath, I studied his features for a trace of a lie.

He sighed deeply and crossed his arms. After a few tense seconds, he stated: "they aren't prepared to learn it."

"Why is it? Because it's a triple hissatsu?" I glanced at the Mukata triplets. It will be wasted on them at the moment.

"That is one reason. Another is that it needs something three strikers don't have."

"What is that?" I asked swiftly, but his watch beeped, signaling the end of the mini-match.

The Coach whistled and walked to the team, giving them his complete focus.

I hissed and stomped my foot hard before going to the bench and retrieving the sports drinks.

"I _need_ to know. I _have_ to know."

⚽️⚽️

"Coach," I called out to him as morning practice ended, "I would like to hear more about the hissatsu."

"Ah, Sumire-san. . ." He looked away, discomfort apparent on his face. "You will be late for class, maybe before afternoon practice."

Sighing, I shook my head, "I will go during lunch break to ask anyway, so it's less of a trouble if you tell me about Tornado Legend now." I giggled at the change of his expression, covering a half-smile as the words seemed to test his patience.

"Isn't Tornado Legend that triple hissatsu the team created ten years ago?" Gouenji-kun interrupted, eyes lit with curiosity as he approached.

I bit my lip, but then perked up at the good fortune before I clapping once. "Yes, the Coach was telling about it during the match! It sounds interesting!"

Gouenji looked at Coach Nikaidou who was aware he was now outnumbered.

"All right, I'll tell you," he said, hanging his head in defeat.

⚽️⚽️

Ten years ago, two boys that will become legends stepped into Kidokawa Seishuu. Tatsumaki Ousho and Tatsumaki Noboru. They had the same dream as any other middle school soccer player, beat Teikoku and win the Football Frontier. But dreams can't be achieved with merely wishing, and that is what made the Tatsumaki twins different. They had talent. Enough of it. It started with a bet to create the strongest shoot.

The older created Fire Tornado, embodying the oldest's fiery spirit, and the younger devised Dark Tornado, the symbol of his destructive nature. By putting a piece of themselves in their hissatsus, they created a unique tune never seen in the soccer club. But this wasn't enough to beat Teikoku. A piece was missing. And it came the following year. A smaller piece called Tatsumaki Hideyoshi.

The boy was gentler, like the buffer that calmed his brothers' fiery souls. The twins made a truce, but the youngest sibling had also inherited that passion and talent for the sport. He created Back Tornado--proof of his passionate admiration and defiance towards his older brothers--before the Football Frontier, and soon, they decided to harmonize the three hissatsus.

"That is Tornado Legend," I said proudly. The team exploded in cheers and comments. It seemed most of them hadn't heard of the story, an odd action from the Coach. Gouenji and had I agreed to tell the team when the Coach wasn't around. We couldn't waste a golden opportunity.

"That is awesome! Why didn't the Coach tell us earlier?"

"Yeah, I knew the soccer team was super strong. But I didn't know it had been this strong!"

"I would have worked much harder if I knew we had this much history. We even made it to the nationals!"

I walked off the front row, mulling over the last statement. Glancing at Gouenji-kun, I commented a quiet "alright" to myself. "This should be enough to boost their self-confidence."

After we discussed the main topic of our secret meeting, it was decided Gouenji and I would look for Back Tornado and find what happened to Dark Tornado. I figured we could answer the latter if we asked Coach Nikaidou. I wasn't sure if Teikoku had the real manual or if Kidokawa had been smart enough to make a copy after all.

"You guys. . ." The Coach grumbled after Gouenji and I explained the reason for the team's excitement at his return.

"It's not like you told us to keep it a secret," I said, smiling playfully as he facepalmed.

"Even with the manuals, none of you would be able to learn Tornado Legend."

"But that can be our next objective after the tournament, regardless of the result," I challenged.

"Coach, please!" Gouenji-kun pleaded, the rest of the team immediately joining in chorus.

The Coach had proven to be weak under pressure, and it didn't take much for him spill Back Tornado's manual location. They did make a copy of Tatsumaki Noboru's hissatsu before the original manual was stolen, the last a detail the Coach kept to himself.

"Then I will go get it!" I said cheerfully, "Is it all right if I skip manager duties? I can find someone to take my place for the day." I had already begun to trot away backwards, humming loudly as I did an effort to wait for an answer.

"Wait." The Coach gestured at Gouenji. "Gouenji-kun, go with her."

My feet stopped moving, the tone dying. "Huh? Why? I don't need Gouenji-kun." I bit my tongue, regretting those words immediately. I had chosen my words wrong.

The Coach shook his head. "It's not because of that, Sumire-san," he assured.

"Then. . . why?" The team had fallen silent, and none of them met my gaze. The oldest Mukata's words seemed to have affected them more than I hoped.

" _Fine_. It doesn't mean I will slow down." I made my way to the closest building without waiting for Gouenji.

⚽️⚽️

"Sumire. . . Hey, Sumire. Hey! Tch."

Inside the cultural clubs building, our footsteps clicked quietly. I pressed forward without reacting to Gouenji-kun's call.

"Are you angry at me?" He inquired.

"We are wasting time." I doubled on the stairs towards the second floor.

"The Coach doesn't think you need supervision. It's because everyone else doesn't know what to think about you."

I stopped mid-step without turning back. "And why is that? Because they don't trust me. And the Coach cares more about the team's trust than supporting a student." As I was about to continue, my arm was held back. I yanked my wrist away, slipping through Gouenji's fingers with ease.

"Mukata-senpai's accusations divided the team, and the manual was in a place anyone could have left it," Gouenji mourned quietly, frustration seeping from his words but I stood unfazed.

"I understand that. We are talking about two different things." I resumed walking. "Anyway, I will do things my way whether or not you are around. I have been doing my job well all this time, and I certainly won't take a step back because of a _boy_."

I heard Gouenji-kun's steps cut short. "It's about that," he whispered.

I flicked around, crossing my arms with a condescending look. "Exactly, Captain."

He passed my hand through his head, chuckling dryly. Shaking his head, he said gently, but I detected a sneer, "Okay, I'll step back."

I nodded. "Thank you." We walked in silence for a few seconds, and I added a little apologetically, but determined, "I appreciate the help and company of course. I merely took the Coach's words as _'do her job.'_ " I gazed forward. "You don't need to say anything. I will take care of it."

Gouenji-kun replied a few seconds later. "I came because I want to know about Tornado Legend. Maybe the Coach felt guilty for giving you all the work off-field."

I tilted my head. "You are the ones on the main stage. This is the least I can do." Looking away, I quickly resumed the pace, a little slower now.

We eventually reached our destination. The student council office. I glanced at Gouenji, insecurity and doubt finally filling my now composed mind. Taking a deep breath, I knocked on the door.

Ryuugamine-senpai shouldn't be a problem.

⚽️⚽️

As soon as the bell rang, my phone rang furiously. As I was about to storm out of the classroom, I was held back again. I turned around in hurry. "Not now, Mitsumiya!"

"Sumire-san, wait. Are you really that busy? We haven't talked--"

I freed my arm and ran off, quickly taking out my phone. "Hello, yes, this is Sumire Yuu. Thank you for your call, Fuyo-san. . . Yes, Michio-san and Natsuki-san have been taking good care of me. . . Yes, about Kidokawa Seishuu's soccer team. . . Mn, I think it will be interesting to know how they have evolved from a novice team to its present one. . . This Saturday? Of course! Thank you very much!" I removed the phone from my ear and hovered over the End Call button.

"You sound much more cheerful, Sumire-chan. It is reassuring. I am sure the rest of the heads will be glad to have you back eventually."

I placed the phone over my ear and smiled. "Yes, that is my goal."

"Then, I will be glad to support you. The Sumire and the Fuyo Group go way back after all."

I nodded. "Mn, I have to visit soon as well. I hope Michio-san and Natsuko-san aren't too busy with college applications."

A few minutes later, I hung up. Making sure the staircase was empty, I slid down to the floor, stomach rumbling and body screaming for rest. I stared upwards.

"Huh?" I murmured quietly. "When was the last time I eat?" I blinked, trying to focus my hazy vision. I tried to push myself up with a lot of difficulties. "Well. . ." I grunted. "If everything is going as planned. . . then this to be expected. This is no one person's job," I said between huffs, gazing at my shaky arms. "She could have done it better."

I walked back to the classroom, taking a notebook and a protein bar after glancing at Higashi-san's lunch. I was determined on becoming a worthy successor of the Sumire Foundation and mend my mistakes. I had to relearn discipline and the meaning of hard work while keeping a facade at school and out. This pain was worth the effort. All pain was worth it.

**A Look Into The Origins** **|** **End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! This chapter is a little experimental as I found an important piece of Yuu's character but I am satisfied with the twists. EAL has reached 2k and there's will be a celebration. Everyone is invited!
> 
> Yes, Yuu completely forgot the original plan was for Gouenji and her go together.
> 
> I'm so glad I managed to write this chapter as it symbolizes a stepping stone in Yuu's character arc. The gender and the self-identity issues is big for her. What do you guys think? I left out some events so what do you think happened there? Of course Kiyoshi and Kensou where in that room ;D.
> 
> What do you think of the interaction between the soccer team? I have in mind giving Yakata a bit more important, but I feel their relationship is more real. Btw, the song in the media slot^^ is Yuu's character song. If you time, please listen to it!
> 
> Next chapter, retribution time~ >:D
> 
> Published: August 2nd, 2018


	16. Snow Bunnies

**_Trigger warning: Panic attack._ **

**Chapter** **16** **| Snow Bunnies**

It was the usual Sunday.

Kiyoshi blinked twice, surprised his sight wasn't foggy despite recent events. It must be because he reduced his sweets intake and now exercised regularly, he thought with a clear mind. The new routine and habits were doing wonders. Kiyoshi felt he had more energy.

So this was not the usual weekend. Nevertheless, Kiyoshi hopped out of bed, took his cell phone from the desk, and checked his inbox.

"Nothing from Keima," he muttered, then started his day with a light jog before breakfast. He usually texted the day before to say he had time to work out together--more like train Kiyoshi. Maybe he had soccer practice.

After doing his appointed chores, he tied his sneakers and left the house. Mother had left a few hours ago after she was called from work, leaving Kiyoshi to finish cleaning the windows and silently agreeing he was in charge of dinner. The Coach somehow convinced her to accept the transfer, and Kiyoshi showed results as perfect scores in all his tests so far.

Everything was going well, home-wise. If only school was the same. In a quick trip to the student council room, the other day from his new spying spot as the team resumed practice, his movements froze when he saw the little girl with violet eyes gazed at him.

It was. . . awkward, especially because he acquired Fire Tornado's manual despite assuring he didn't have it.

Before she and Gouenji-kun left, Kensou notified them Kiyoshi would pass by soon during practice to get info about the soccer club's latest expenses.

"Sorry for the sudden news," he casually told the first-years who shook their heads and excused him. He also introduced Kiyoshi to the two, exchanging bows and names. Shuuya was a really cute name, he had to admit. However, his smile faded when he met the girl's stare as if saying he should fall off a cliff and die. Kiyoshi wondered if Gouenji-kun noticed her intense gaze.

After they left, Kensou told him if Back Tornado's manual was that important, then he had no intention of letting anyone take it.

Kiyoshi felt a drop of sweat trace down the middle of his back. If he found out about her, he was as good as dead.

"W-why won't you give it to me?" Kiyoshi grumbled in a small voice.

Kensou merely shrugged. "It would be too easy." He then narrowed his eyes. "And you have the terrible habit of sitting back and hoping everything falls in your hands. I was the one who gave you the tip about the empty third-year classrooms in the building in front of the pitch."

Kiyoshi instinctively pouted. "Why do you even care?"

Kensou's glare deepened to a murderous stare. "Because I hate people like you."

He stood silent, looking away from Kensou's eyes that finally showed real emotion.

Hatred. That's why he was torturing him. Kiyoshi was relieved and scared. Relieved because it was common, scared because of what he was capable of doing.

Unfortunately, Komoto-san, the student council president and the one the first years were looking for to request the manual, was so busy with the latest preparations for Alumni Day he hadn't been in the office at the same time as Kiyoshi for days. And getting his number was harder than he thought. Not that he would call, but text.

Kiyoshi took a short break from his jog, chugging down his water bottle as he leaned beside his favorite convenience store. Lowering his head as two girls passed by him, he heard them whisper about his looks, nudging at each other playfully.

He scurried into the store, lowering his gaze even further to hide his heating cheeks. His stomach was fluttery, like being tickled. He stared at his reflection and looked away. Okay, he _was_ good-looking. Not only he took care of his face, but with Keima's petting, he wanted to soften his blonde hair as well.

He glanced at his reflection once again, small, proud smile widening charmingly.

A familiar voice called his name. Kiyoshi turned around in a haste and greeted the old owner behind the register beside his grandson.

. . . He should buy something. Kiyoshi looked around frantically as the old man asked what he wanted, choosing a honey bun on a nearby shelf he decided to share with Keima.

"Thank you for your patronage." The clerk bowed as Kiyoshi left.

After strapping the small bag on his pants, he resumed trotting. He passed a few streets, the characteristic small, thick bushes that hallmarked his secret place soon came into view.

"I should have bought something for them instead," he said as he reduced speed and sighed. "Now I'm broke--Huh?" Kiyoshi blinked at the increasing sound of music while he neared the entrance.

He knelt behind the flower pots, peeking at the intruder.

Keima?! Kiyoshi narrowed his gaze. He seemed to be saying something. . . singing, it seemed. He was also clutching something in his hands, where the song seemed to be coming from. Most probably his phone.

"That. . . doesn't sound like Japanese," Kiyoshi muttered quietly with a deep frown. After a couple of minutes, he managed to catch two phrases in English.

_Whenever I begin to feel the burning tears,_

_Overflowing from my eyes._

As if the song was Keima's guide, sharp sobs escaped from his thin lips. Kiyoshi fell to his butt, the rest of the song flowing into his ears with ease. The melancholic notes of the guitar mourned a loss, the desperate lyrics trying to scream out the pain.

_I wonder what the sparkles in your eyes,_

_Are hiding from my mind._

_Hiding from my open heart,_

_And from your open heart._

Kiyoshi brought the edge of his palm to his wet eyes, a strange ache in his heart. Pain he didn't know its origin. He pushed himself off the ground and ran to Keima, throwing himself to his friend in pain.

"Ki-Kiyoshi?! Wha. . . what are you. . ." Keima's voice broke down before Kiyoshi felt droplets wet his shoulder.

He sniffed, the ache in his chest tightening sharply. The song still echoed between them, speaking about their suffering.

He tightened his embrace and spoke, "You are going to get through this, Kei."

There was a sharp inhale, the hands touching Kiyoshi's waist trembling. He burrowed his nose on the crook of Keima's neck. "If you were in pain, why didn't you call me?"

Keima replied a few seconds later, sarcasm dripping like water, "Kiyoshi, why do you think I'm here, in a place where I know no comes?"

Kiyoshi glanced down bashfully, then he noticed his femur was between Keima's legs. "So-sorry!" Embarrassment heated his brain, and he pulled away awkwardly. A hand flew to his head, scratching it thoughtfully. "U-um. . . Did you. . . wa-n-t to be. . . a-lone?"

Keima nodded with distant eyes, letting the answer settle into Kiyoshi's mind.

"Uh-uh, sorry! I-I-I am a bother, right?!" A hand squeezed his heart as Kiyoshi spoke, leaving charred marks at the self-depreciating words. "Bu-but--!" Kiyoshi stopped, staring at Keima's unchanging expression.

If you wanted to be alone, why did you come to a place where you knew I could find you?

Kiyoshi bit his lip, deciding to shut up.

A few moments later, Keima spoke softly as if it was too much of a trouble, "You came to see them, right?"

Kiyoshi looked up between the upper frame of his glasses and his bangs. "U-uhn."

"Don't let me stop you."

He nodded, standing up meekly to look for the calico cat and the black cat with white mittens. Looking back at Keima once, he focused on his task.

"Ah, there you are," Kiyoshi whispered as the black kitty brushed its head against his bent knee. He let his legs lay on the short grass for good, scratching behind the kitty's ear.

It purred, rolling on its body and showing off its white, fluffy belly.

Kiyoshi squealed, scratching the kitty's sign of trust. "You are so cute~."

After he was satisfied, he leaned back to check on Keima. No movement. The song had changed to a popular J-rock band's.

There was a soft but refined meow, pulling Kiyoshi back towards the calico cat that appeared from the dense trees behind the park.

Kiyoshi greeted her politely, letting her sniff his finger before brushing it against her cheek.

"You won't help him, will you?" he asked sadly. After an accident in which Hachi-chan scared the aloof calico, the cats resented the dog and his owner. "I can't force you but. . . I wish." He then added quietly, "I will do my best instead."

After a goodbye pet, Kiyoshi went back to the bench.

It was empty.

His eyes moved frantically, relaxing ever so slightly at Keima's leaving figure. Kiyoshi caught up after calling his name, Keima stopping in his tracks. He inhaled. He could do this. He could do this.

"Ke-Kei! Uh-um you-you know? I. . . I don't think you should be alone today. I know you want to but. . . " Selfish, Kiyoshi was so selfish. He brought a hand to his chest and inhaled. "Do you want to watch a movie in my house?"

Keima loved movies. It was the activity they did together the most when soccer and video games were out of the window.

His friend turned, staring at the ground, hands in his pockets. Eventually, he rubbed his neck. "Uh. . . I haven't checked what's out."

"It doesn't matter!" Kiyoshi squeaked, flailing his arms with mock enthusiasm. "We can watch something again. I'll make popcorn!"

Inside, he was shaking. A small chip on his white heart cracked and fell, revealing a bright red color. But Keima was worth it. He was his best friend. They made a promise.

Keima placed a hand on his head and stroke his hair. "Only because are desperate." He smiled casually. "Bribing me with food."

Kiyoshi looked down, cheeks flushed at his own actions. He used to do that back then. Back when he wanted to be with Keima. Food is one of animals' basic desires.

And pleasures.

⚽️⚽️

On the way to Kiyoshi's house, they talked. Keima tried to push the topic away from him to Kiyoshi's school life, but Kiyoshi insisted, and he wasn't pleased.

Squeezing his shoulders together, Keima grumbled like a kid who was wronged. "I was taken off practice. So I left early."

"Wha-what?! Why?!" Kiyoshi protested.

His friend frowned, jaw tightening. "Because I can't focus! Class, practice--I can't do anything!" He huffed, stopping for second and grumbled. "Sorry for raising my voice."

Kiyoshi shook his head immediately and smiled. "No, you are frustrated, right? It's fine."

"I'm a burden. To the team, to you." His voice lowered. "I can't be their knight."

Kiyoshi blinked. He was peeking into a new side of Keima. It was foreign, but he tagged along with hesitation.

Keima had a dream. Become the pillar that will bring his team to the nationals. As their ace striker; as the one whom they put their hopes on.

"Last year, we lost to Mikage in our second match," he mourned. "Four to zero."

Kiyoshi inhaled sharply. Teikoku was three times stronger than Mikage. In the span of a year, Tengawara had to be at least six times stronger to match Teikoku, let alone win. He gulped.

It was impossible. Why did this idiot take the hardest tasks? It was the first time he heard Keima had a clear goal--

Kiyoshi took Keima's hand in his own, holding it firm. "I will support you. To the end."

Keima's dim expression broke into a calm smile. "Thank you." Then, he chuckled playfully. "You have become bolder, Yoshii."

"What do you mean?" He asked, blushing as Keima squeezed his hand lightly. "Ah-" Kiyoshi tried to let go, but there was slight resistance from Keima's fingers.

"Ke-Kei," his voice squeaked.

His friend chuckled with a hint of malice, relaxing his grip so Kiyoshi's fingers fell out.

Kiyoshi looked away, his head on fire. Covering his red cheeks with the back of his hand, he couldn't find a place where his eyes could rest on. "That's mean."

"Sorry." His friend chuckled again. But it was forced.

⚽️⚽️

"How much butter do you want?" Kiyoshi asked, peeking from the kitchen door.

Keima made a sound, busy searching for a movie on the TV. "The usual, I guess." Adding after Kiyoshi placed a hundred grams of butter, sprinkled sea salt, and added olive oil to the pan, he asked, "Are you going to make sweet popcorn, too?"

"Erm, I don't think so. Pimples," Kiyoshi yelled.

He finished getting the snacks ready and plopped himself down on the couch.

"Sayuri-san's at work?" Keima asked as he popped some hot popcorn in his mouth, his expression immediately glistening like Hachi-dan's clean fur under the sun. "Your snacks are the best!"

"Ah, thank you. . ." Kiyoshi said bashfully with a small smile. "It's something really simple. . . Olive oil is healthier than vegetable oil. The way carbohydrates are aligned. . ." Kiyoshi glanced at Keima, his faraway expression making him stop.

"Keima?" he called. No response. Taking his hand and stroking it, his friend blinked and turned.

"Yeah? Oh, you were saying?"

Kiyoshi shook his head. "Let's watch the movie," he said sadly.

Keima's hand below Kiyoshi's flew to his neck. "Crap, I did it again, didn't I? I'm so sorry."

Kiyoshi smiled tightly. "You don't have to apologize for things you don't have control of, Kei."

His friend frowned. "No, I should. I should be able to control it. I know I'm a liability right now. Even Itsuki is worried, more after I had told him."

Kiyoshi's mouth closed, and he looked away from Keima's direction. Itsuki, Keima's friend, one of their past teammates. A dirty bubble was rising from his gut. Keima's secret wasn't only theirs anymore.

"It's good someone else can help you at Tengawara," Kiyoshi said flatly.

"I. . . I guess. At least, it's a bit easier than last year."

Kiyoshi bit his lip. Keima and Itsuki became inseparable when they started middle school. But he didn't think Keima was capable of trusting someone else with this delicate topic during his absence.

It was his fault. He shouldn't blame Keima for this ugly feeling. But _why the hell, why the hell did he need him if he had someone?_

The movie started, the red oni's roar never stopping.

⚽️⚽️

Kiyoshi took the empty popcorn bowl when Keima spoke, "Hey, Kiyoshi?"

"Mn?" He stared down at the bowl, not bothering to look him in the eye.

"It's an insensitive question."

Kiyoshi scoffed. "Since when did you care about being sensible?" Adding, "I don't mind."

Keima rested his hand on his chin, fingers lazily touching his lips. He stared at Kiyoshi from the corner of his eyes for a moment. "Did you feel like this. . . when your sister left?"

"What are you. . . --!" Kiyoshi's memories received a blunt blow as if a bat was swung down his head full force. It awakened the memory of a cold blue eye gazing at him, disappearing a few moments later.

Kiyoshi gripped his head, the red oni flailing hysterically as its piercing roar cut his connection to reality. He witnessed the chains tighten around its limbs, torso, and neck, ripping its skin, but only causing its frenzy to increase.

The origin of the pain. The cause of the pain. The person he loved the most who left him, leaving him broken beyond repair. It was only time before Kiyoshi decided to cope by unconsciously creating a monster.

A faint squeeze brought him slightly back to reality.

"Mi. . . Miyu-chan. . ." Kiyoshi whispered her name between sharp breaths, tears strolling down the corners of his eyes.

"Kiyoshi, calm down! Don't think about it! I shouldn't have asked! Focus on my voice!" Keima didn't understand. He couldn't put it away now. He was more self-conscious than when he was a child. Him going crazy was also a matter of time.

"Damn it, Kiyoshi!" Keima took his face in his hands. "Kiyoshi, can you hear me?" The words sounded muffled. Kiyoshi tried to focus, hearing sharp breaths in a frenzy rhythm. He wanted Keima to stop him, but his mouth didn't move an inch.

Keima cursed again, hesitation and fear flooding his eyes. He took Kiyoshi's glasses off, asking him to close his eyes before leaning his forehead against his. "Kiyoshi, focus in my voice. It will be fine. Match my breathing," he said sternly.

Kiyoshi focused on Keima for a while, trying to obey his orders. His hands were warm against his cold skin, reminding him he wasn't alone despite fear and panic knawing his thoughts.

During that period, time seemed to stop. As Kiyoshi's breathing slowed, he held onto the sight of his friend even tighter.

After affirming he was calm, Keima carefully laid Kiyoshi on the couch and caressed his hair in a soothing manner. "Your breathing is back to normal. I'm glad it helped."

Kiyoshi's body was mostly immobile, strengthless, but he smiled as a sign of silent gratitude. It was the first time Keima had managed to stop it efficiently. He wondered if he had researched about it.

Keima was so caring and cool, keeping calm in a stressing situation. Kiyoshi blushed at the thought. His body was now warm and tired. The red oni was calm as well, filled with the emotions that flooded him.

As his consciousness faded, the song Keima was crying out hours before wafted into his ears once again, gaining a new meaning. It was how he felt about his sister, yearning for her presence, wondering if they will ever meet again, yet, wanting to forget the pain.

_Whenever I begin to feel the burning tears,_

_As I look up at the sky._

_I keep on looking forward at it hoping that_

_I'll find you soon enough in time._

_I wonder if the stars that sparkle in my eyes_

_Will eventually subside._

_Hiding from my endless heartbeat,_

_From my endless heartbeat._

_Together you and I will always be alive,_

_Committed close to you I'll stay._

_As long as I can hold your hand,_

_Again and again,_

_Then maybe I will find the way._

_I can never travel back in time_

_But they smile back at me those days_

_And everything remains the same._

_This pain I will soon awake from_

_What I see will melt all away,_

_With my tears._

Miyu-chan left him because he was weak. Because he was too scared to go against their mother. It had been six years, and his love for his dear sister hadn't faltered a second. It was so strong, the red oni cried.

That meant Keima and him were truly like snow bunnies, lonely creatures that look pleasing to the eyes. They melt during summer, leaving no trace of their previous existence behind.

**Snow Bunnies** **|** **End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! My apologies for the late update. Life decided to crash down on me last week and my body forgot to load ammo against bacteria so now I'm sick :D. THAT'S WHY, I'm super happy this is a long chapter, and a Kiyoshi chapter. I wanted to write something less tense, but c'mon XD. This is not a chill story.
> 
> The video in the media slot is the song in this chapter. Credits to umm... I'll add that later. I'm actually in a hurry.
> 
> On another topic, #Kensouwhywon'tyougiveittohim? There's so many cool things in this chapter. It feels, dynamic. Tell me your favorite :3.
> 
> Published: August 21st, 2018


	17. From Friend To Foe

**Chapter** **17**   **| From Friend To Foe**

"Sumire-san~" Chiyo-chan sang as the bell rang, waving from her seat near the door with a bright smile. "Let's eat together~"

I sang back and took my bento, careful to not bump on the hazy desks. Dread settled on my stomach as Chiyo-chan's figure grew larger, her towering figure causing my blurry vision to play tricks on my mind. I plastered a smile as a greeting, my stomach growling quietly.

"Where's Mitsumiya?" I questioned, straightening my skirt before sitting.

"She'll be back soon," Chiyo-chan answered. Her cheerful expression darkened for a moment but before I asked, she changed the subject. "Anyway, what have you been doing, Sumire-san?" The urge to push the chair back to ease the icky feeling that was eating away my hunger tightened like a curse. I shooed away the thought, sharpening my vision and hearing. My muscles hardened at her next words. "It's been a while since we ate lunch together."

"You are right." I faked a pleasant smile. "I have been busy but I'll try being around you two more." My eyes drifted away towards an empty seat. ". . . I am always grateful for you and Mitsumiya pulling me back."

"Back?" Chiyo-chan asked with an innocent blink. "Back from where?"

I gave her another smile. "Don't mind that. I was rambling." Staring directly at her face blurred the rest of her body, easing the pain in my stomach. I kept it up.

I told her I was attending club business. Despite managers typically having simple jobs, at Gakushuin Elementary, overcoming set expectations and roles was our motto.

"So you know a lot about health stuff?" Chiyo-chan marveled.

"Yup! Nutrition, first aid, encouragement, and psychology related things." I ate a piece of a seasonal fruit. Hm, peach. I brought my gaze back at her face as my body quivered in irrational fear.

"That's amazing," she exclaimed, slumping on her seat as our legs bumped together under the table.

I muffled a scream, the peach almost falling through the wrong pipe.

"The judo club could really use someone like you," she commented.

"Is everyone as tall as you?" I squeaked as soon as I swallowed.

I apologized when her eyes widened, indignation clear on her face. Nevertheless, her concern reply was: "Sumire-san, are you all right?"

"Y-Yes!" I waved a hand. That moment of carelessness took away the strength on my hands, the chopsticks between my fingers falling with dull clicks. My breathing became more erratic, and I sunk my body to pick the fallen chopsticks up. When my fingers brushed against them, the speakers came to life, calling my name.

"The student council office?" Chiyo-chan questioned, bending her had to the side.

"Yes." I slammed the chopsticks on the table, avoiding Chiyo-san's curious gaze. "I want to talk to them about the soccer club. If we win the next two matches, we will be in the nationals after all." I repacked my bento with fumbling fingers.

"Talk to you later!" I turned away but Chiyo-chan called me back.

"Hm?" I yanked my head back with a forced smile. "What is it?"

Chiyo-chan straightened herself, gazing with a complex, stern expression, a flash of a grown man holding a gun in front of my face flickered like an old TV. I muffled a mad scream with sheer will.

After the moment stretched far too long, she dismissed the topic with a wistful "nevermind".

I scurried away, dollops of sweat condensing on my forehead.  _Sorry, Chiyo-chan._ I bit my lip and left the classroom after placing the half-eaten bento in my backpack.  _It's nothing personal._ It was the bad dreams. The nightmares.

I had to do something to make up from my continuous absence to them. The thought of losing the only thread that tied me to the class snapping in two sent a chilly breeze across my bones.

⚽️⚽️

At last, I reached the room. Catching my dissonant breath before knocking on the door, I announced my presence and stepped in. As I delved deeper, my footsteps faded like a dying tune.

Kensou-senpai grinned as he sat on the president's chair, the Queen of Hearts and Queen of Black Hearts stuck between his fingers; a chess pawn and a king standing right beside said hand. My eyes surveyed the scene until falling on Ryuugamine-senpai's guilty expression, and I immediately understood the situation.

But before I could say anything, a person exhaled behind me. I turned on my heel in a haste.

"Mitsu. . . miya. . ." I uttered.

"Hello, Sumire-san," she greeted with a playful smile, closing the door with a dreadful click and reclining against it. "I'm surprised you are involved in something so fun."

I swallowed hard. "Where is Kumoto-san?" I asked Kensou-senpai, turning away. I requested one of the members of the student council to call me if the president was in the room to see Back Tornado's manual.

"I think it's pretty obvious what is going on here, Sumire-san," he said, flicking the cards between his fingers. "If it wasn't for Kiyoshi here, I would never know Kageyama had already sent a spy. He wouldn't have made such an obvious mistake."

I bit my lip and glared at the blonde boy who evaded my gaze. "I don't know what you are talking about," I declared.

He snorted. "All right, if that's how you want to play. This is a better fight than what Kiyoshi is putting up. I like it."

The mentioned boy pressed his lips in a thin line, regret written all over his face. Had I realized he was my greatest weak point, I would have kept him close.

⚽️⚽️

When I left the room, the bell that had long signaled the end of lunch passed.

My body groaned from pain and exhaustion, my throat burning along a light headache. I rested under the window, clutched my knees, and buried my head.

Expectations, expectations. I disappointed everyone by not answering them. I couldn't get over the grief over my parent's loss to be the pillar of trust they needed in that moment of panic.

"Kensou-senpai is right. I am as useless as Ryuugamine-senpai," I mourned.

Who else would protect the promises they made and carry their will? Protect those will less like Tsukichi-san's and Higashi's family?

I dug my hand in my pocket and took out of my father's most prized possessions. A gleaming violet stud earring that would be mine when inherited their place.

I was as weak spirited as my father, not like my mother who took a gun with her inexperienced hands to protect me.

"Sumire-san," Mitsumiya murmured.

I hugged myself tighter as if it would remove from reality. I wanted to drown in the darkness that didn't consume me, neither that day nor the years later. My vision was pitch black, and for the first time, I admitted I found some relief in it.

"The moment I closed the door, I accepted there was no going back. But I didn't think it would be that bad. That you would. . ."

I burrowed my head deeper, the inside of my arms covering my ears yet Mitsumiya's voice echoed. I clenched my jaw and sniffed, cursing the sharpness of human ears under my breath.

"I thought we were friends after I invited you to the restaurant. But then you started evading us because of who knows what. It's not like it's the first time it has happened, Chiyo and I had a terrible reputation in elementary school. . ."

Silence.

"We really believed your act."

". . .Odayaka-san," I started, my mouth moving on its own, "Does she know?"

She seemed to hesitate. "I didn't tell her the details. Odayaka?"

"I have never called a friend by their first name."

"So you were forcing yourself." Mitsumiya huffed. "This is better. Although she wants to believe you are a cute little girl."

"That's a shallow way to live," I commented.

"She isn't very smart, but she is a good person."

I made a sound of agreement.

Time passed, my body loosening from the heavy experience. I had half a mind to call Higashi and go home, my consciousness slipping away when Mitsumiya opened her mouth again.

"Hey, Sumire-san? Are you doing this whole Tornado technique alone?"

Another sound of agreement.

"Then, is it possible I can help you? Kensou-senpai is helping Ryuugamine-senpai after all."

"What?!" I popped my head out, hissing as my eyes came in contact with the light.

"Yeah, I thought you knew," she deadpanned, her figure hazier than before.

"Of course not." I frowned, rubbing my eyelids at the painful throb around my eyes.

"What about what I asked?"

I didn't even take a moment to consider a reply, "I know this sounds rude, but why do you think I want to be around you?"

I was going to reassess my relationship when I went back home after a nap.

"Thought so. . ."

"Why did you do that in the first place?" I questioned as I moved to massage my temples in small circles, "something about me ignoring you?"

Mitsumiya nodded, the thick braids at her sides swaying in unison.

"I take the blame for that and was planning to make it up to you soon." I gave her a look. "Now, I'm not sure."

Her face fell, lips twisting in a slight grimace. "I took it too far. I wanted to apologize with actions."

I considered her words for a moment. "I am a workaholic. I choose work over everything else," I admitted.

She looked at me over the corner of her eye. "That doesn't sound like the person Kensou-senpai described."

". . . Work was all I had."

"Friends?"

I frowned. "Did the girl he described sounded like she cared for them?"

"But you had them," she remarked.

I stared at the wall in front of me. "I didn't see them as such, and after my parents died, I realized they never were."

However, flashes of the sleepovers with Tsukichi-san ran through my mind: the moments she revealed her parents' fights, or that she was scared of not fitting in unless I had pulled her.

"To be honest, that might as well be another girl," I continued. "Those memories seem so distant now." I stared down at my loafers. What I remember the clearest was trying to read the atmosphere in the class and doing nothing to disrupt it. The occasional brave moment to change my situation was halted with a comment of "read the mood" from one of the boys if I tried joining any conversation.

"Rumors are a nasty thing," I said.

"You are right," Mitsumiya replied.

"I became the manager of the soccer club because someone recommended it. The students were from other classes, unlike the music club."

"So you  _were_  in the music club," she asserted.

"I loved it," I said, placid. "I loved the soccer club as well. There were so many different people with different needs. Lending them a helping hand was. . . Nevermind."

I raised my head to the ceiling. Even though I had also failed to uphold the image Mitsumiya had of me, this conversation made my body light and comfortable as if I was talking with Yuuto. This was how talking to a friend was.

⚽️⚽️

I skipped the rest of the lectures for the day, passing by the faculty office to let the coach know of my absence. Excusing myself for anemia, I was able to take a long nap after Higashi-san won the debate of who will eat the rest of the bento.  _Me._

I decided to take a stroll in the neighboring city with her after an early dinner, the place holding so many precious memories: the rare moments I enjoyed a full day with my parents and the spontaneous outings with Higashi for a casual stroll around the lively shopping district. The latter was my whim that day.

The lights of the stores flickered on one by one as the sun retreated, a blue curtain closing in from the other side. Our steps reverberated in the stone blocks, the conversation lively.

"I'm not one to ask for friendship advice, but it doesn't seem she holds ill wishes against you now," my greatest confidante concluded after I had finished recounting today's events.

I hummed. "You have a point." I frowned. "But I am still angry."

"Would you forgive Kidou-sama if he had done the same thing?" she teased in an attempt to have me back down.

"Of course not!" I shot back, crossing my arms. "I would tell him to not talk to me for a week!"

Higashi-san giggled. "That's not a long time."

"Enough for him to think over his actions,  _hmph_."

"More importantly, it is you who needs to be punished,  _ojou-sama_."

I turned my head to her, eyes wide at those inappropriate words. She stared with a miffed expression, hurt dark red eyes like blooming carnations. I got a loud reprimand over my actions this past couple of weeks, compromising my health over my job. She was right, health was more important.

I enveloped her in a hug as tears began to fall from her rosy cheeks, a healthy hue from the exposure to the sun, and profusely apologized. I bit down my bottom lip to stop the tears from resurfacing and promised her I wouldn't do something that reckless again.

I pulled her to a nearby table and took out my handkerchief, cleaning her flowing tears from where her hands couldn't hold as she sobbed. I didn't mind the subtle glances and the whispers. I told myself they weren't directed at me.

"Higashi-san. . ." I whispered.

"I'm sorry. . .  _hic_  . . . I. . ."

"No, I'm the one who should apologize," I interrupted in a haste. "I know you care a lot about me, not because it is your job but genuine concern. I was selfish. I apologize. . . Although that isn't enough."

"Why you are the one who has to cheer me up? I should be the one giving you advice," her voice quivered.

I giggled lightly. "I don't know."

"Sometimes, it's as if I can't do anything for you," she confessed.

I waved my hands frantically. "That's not true! I would die of starvation if you didn't cook for me. And washed my clothes. And cleaned my room." I shrunk a little over admitting I wasn't independent as I preferred to believe.

Higashi didn't respond. I took it as a good sign and traced my hand down her long orange hair.

"You are pretty."

Higashi-san giggled before sniffing. "I'll fall for you, Sumire-sama."

I laughed. "Let me get you something to drink. Wait here." I walked away without waiting for a reply, giving her a necessary moment alone. I searched for a vending machine, now full-fledged accustomed to it after first using it when I bumped into Ryuugamine-san.

"All the girls following me," I quoted Kensou-senpai about my former self and chuckled. "That sounds odd." That strange tickling that came at awkward times brushed my stomach, and I shook my head. "I already confirmed I can't fall in love, so there's no point in pondering."

As I was about to make my way back, I bumped into someone. "Ouch." I looked up. "Ah, I apologize."

With hair as black mine and parted bangs away from her face, light blue eyes filled with scorn set on me, sharpening as they recognize my figure.

The tea bottle in my hand fell. "Tsukichi-san," I breathed. 'What are the chances?' I wasn't able to add.

"Sumire-san," she glowered. "What a coincidence."

"Yes!" I beamed, jumping a little. "I'm glad to see you."

"Is that so?" She asked unconvinced, her eyes hardening ever so slightly.

"Of course!" I smiled sweetly. "I know after--"

"You really have the nerve to say that."

My smile fell, and I couldn't pull it back up. "I know I don't have the right to. But I am getting my back on my feet. Maybe one day--"

"It's too late," she interrupted. "I prefer the school and the place where I am now. My family is happier. More than ever."

All the excitement I held ebbed out of my body, my voice flattening like a pancake. "Oh. I see." I bit my lip. There was something she was hiding and wanted me to bring out.

"So," I began nonchalantly, "is everything okay?" I tugged the corners of my lips. She had grown so much. Perhaps as tall as Mitsumiya.

"I have friends."

There wasn't a hint of that innocence I liked so much about her on the surface. Instead, she hid in the depths of her eyes, waiting for someone to take her out.

"Tsukichi-san." I placed a hand on hers. "I know something is going on. Tell me."

Her eyes widen at the contact, snatching away her hand and turning around. Her shoulders shook violently as if a dam broke.

"Tsukichi-san," I gasped.

"A boy. . . confessed to me," she seethed.

"Eh?" It took a moment to think of an answer. "Congratulations."

"I rejected him."

My eyes widened for a moment. "I. . . see. That is tough."

"I couldn't see myself falling for him."

"Tsukichi-san." I frowned. "I don't know where you are going with this. I'm not good with this topic."

"I. . . I like. . ." Her voice became smaller, grieving. "Girls."

I instinctively took a step back, awkwardness setting on the bottom of my stomach. I brought a hand to my mouth.

I was fine with love being something I could never experience. But. . . But. . .

"It's your fault," she accused, her back still facing me.

My heart leaped. "What?!"

"You wanted to prove you had kissed someone, right?! You were curious."

I frowned, clenching my hands into fists. "I was curious, yes. But don't say it as if I forced you."

"How could I ever say no to you?!" she screeched. "Your parents supported my family! My parents told me every day to not be a burden to you and do everything you wanted!"

Bitterness towards the submissiveness of Tsukichi-san's family flooded my mouth. "That is the worst. I didn't know. Adults can be very cruel."

She didn't reply so I continued, my voice firm like a mountain. "When I asked you, I wanted to make sure you were comfortable. I trusted your answer."

"Give me back my first kiss," she spoke between her teeth. "Give me back my normality."

I lowered my head, frowning at the ground. "I can't give back the first one, but I wasn't the one who took the latter."

"You are lying."

"I am not."

"Then I'm really. . ."

I was just as uncomfortable and hesitant to finish that sentence.

"And I will never be able to understand love," I added to comfort her.

After we had parted, I went back to pick the tea bottle from the floor. As I crouched down, the futility of my objective finally dawned. My best friend didn't need me anymore. Perhaps it was the same for many others.

Sad violet eyes stared back from the diminute reflection on the plastic. I placed my other hand over my burning cheek, half accepting I deserved it for so many reasons and wanted more, the other half denying responsibility for the careless words of an adult.

Her parting words echoed in my head and I sunk into the dark forest once again.

_"I hate you."_

**From Friend To Foe |** **End**

**Author's Note:**

> Published: January 1st, 2017


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